


Woman of the Woods

by Kamaro0917



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/F, Feels, Fleur needs a hug, Fluff, G!P Fleur, Girl Penis, Hermione needs an Aspirin., Light Angst, Lots of awkwardness, Non magical Hermione, Useless Lesbians, cryptid!Fleur, veela culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25447849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaro0917/pseuds/Kamaro0917
Summary: She knows it's forbidden, but curiosity and an intriguing brunette draw Fleur into a new world and adventure she never could have anticipated.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 217
Kudos: 598
Collections: Fleurmione Disney Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the new story... I've kinda been on an all you can eat Fleurmione writing buffet and I can't choose which to focus on so let's be ambitious and juggle a few at once. Aiming for posting updates on Wednesdays.

A tranquil calm had settled over the forest. The air was fresh and clear. The scent of a summer rain carried by a breeze so slight it barely rustled the leaves overhead. The light of the full moon cast a soft glow over the land, illuminating patches of the forest floor where the moonbeams managed to pierce the broad leaves that made up the thick canopy. 

On first glance, the forest seemed empty, void of life. Nothing could be further from the truth. The forest was full of life. The occasional skittering of a tiny rodent rustling through the leaf litter. The rhythmic hum of insects. Sharp hooves carefully making their way across pebbles banks of the stream. The mournful hooting of a lone owl in the distance. All signs of the denizens of the wood. 

Out of the shadows stepped a young woman. She made her way slowly and silently through the trees, completely comfortable and at ease. This was her land. Well, not  _ her _ land, one could not own the forest. She was simply a part of the balance of nature, the give and take of life that made up the woods. She knew every inch of this forest and could have found her way even on the darkest night of deep winter, guided by the cadence of the forest, serenaded by the sounds of the bubbling stream. 

She paused for a moment in a small clearing, taking advantage of the break in the dense oak canopy overhead. Her pale blue eyes turned upward to the stars; a neutral smile played at her lips as she read the constellations and planets.  _ Yes, tonight was the night. It was time. _ With a deep breath she continued on.

She walked tall and proud with an inhuman grace. She would occasionally reach out so her slender fingers could graze the rough bark of the trees as she passed. Her bare feet trod softly and carefully, the sounds of her footfalls absorbed by the soft moss and grasses. Each footstep fell in a way to cause the least amount of disruption to the forest floor. 

Her hair was so blonde that it cast a silver halo when she passed through the rays of moonlight. Her loose white dress rippled and flowed like waves around her as she moved, made from the finest spun spider silk. It was more a symbol of her position and status within the Coven than for necessity. Her body was covered with soft white feathers from the neck down, though some feathers graced her high cheekbones and brow. The feathers were densest over her chest and torso, almost covering her completely. The feathers tapered off down her long limbs, giving way to smooth, pale skin. Her hands and feet were completely feather-free. Two large wings, also pure white, tucked neatly against her back; the wingtips dragging slightly on the ground behind her.

She looked ethereal, otherworldly. She was not from another world, of course. She was very much of this land. She had a deep respect and inherent understanding of the natural world around her. It was in her blood. She was a Veela. A spirit and guardian of the forest. She and her Veela sisters lived in a small establishment in the Heart of the Forest, caring for the woods they were sworn to protect. 

It was late, about an hour until midnight, maybe a little more, though time had little meaning to her. She knew she should be back at the Village with the others, nestled up in her bed of leaves and soft furs. It was against the rules to wander like this, but she couldn’t help it. It was her favorite week of the year.  _ She _ would be here. Just for a few days.  _ The girl.  _ She had to see her again. One last time.

“Flowerrrr!?! Where are you?” A soft voice called out, cutting through the darkness. The ancient tongue of the Veela sounded more like hisses and chirps. To the untrained ear it might have sounded like a bird call.

Flower closed her eyes and silently counted to five while taking deep breaths to quell her frustration at being caught. 

“Yes, I’m here.” She responded quietly, standing still as she waited for the other to approach. Their voices were barely whispers but sounds carried easily in the dead of night.

A moment later another young woman appeared at her side, clad in a soft leather halter and matching leggings. She carried a wooden quarterstaff with intricate carvings and designs. Her feathers were a warm, chestnut brown, as was her hair. While the blonde Veela let her long hair flow freely, the brunette held hers back in a thick braid. Otherwise her features were nearly identical to Flower. She was tall and slender with a sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and pale blue eyes. 

“How did you find me?” She turned to face the brunette, her slender arms folded across her chest, trying not to look guilty. 

“Well, tracking is part of my job and you’re not exactly subtle. What are you doing out here?” Sage wiggled her eyebrows, not falling for the act. 

“Nothing, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go for a walk. You should go back to the Village. I’ll be back soon.” She tried her best to sound nonchalant so her friend wouldn’t become suspicious, though she had the sinking feeling that she had been made. 

“Flower, that might work on the others, but you really shouldn’t lie to me. I’ve known you since the Nest. In some ways I know you better than you know yourself.”

Flower sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her friend could be so frustrating and persistent. “Fine. If you must know… Midsummer approaches and…”

“Ah, right. I almost forgot about your little summer tradition… So you are sneaking out to see your little human?” 

Flower nodded solemnly, knowing it was pointless to try to deny or hide it. Sage was the only one she had trusted with her secret. It wouldn’t be taken well by the others.

“I’ve never understood your fascination with them. They’re loud and take from the forest without returning an offering. They are nothing but destruction and harm.” 

“I know… I know it’s silly but this is the last time I can do this. Soon I’ll have taken the Vows and been sworn into the Coven as an adult. That includes forsaking all that would seek to harm us or this land. But…” Flower’s voice trailed off as she gestured broadly with her hand in a wide sweeping motion “There’s a whole world out there! Aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”

Sage idly spun a fallen leaf between her nimble fingers as she leaned heavily against a tree. “Not really. I know my place. I just want to make sure you’re safe, you’re my best friend. Humans are dangerous, Flower, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. And they’re getting bolder each year, encroaching further and further. If this keeps up we won’t have anywhere other than the land around the Village.” 

Flower shivered at the thought of their once vast territory being reduced to a few square miles of land. The Heart of the Forest was their haven, protected by the Goddess. It was a place only for Veela and the creatures of the forest. No human had ever stepped foot there, nor would they ever. 

“I saw a group of them deep in the woods near the crystal cave…” 

“So far in! What did you see? Have you told the Elders? Could you tell what they wanted?” Flower interrupted, her eyes wide. That was news to her.

“Whoa, slow down. Not much, yes, and no. They were just walking. I saw that they had those death sticks though. The ones that smell like burning and make that horrible noise.”

Flower shuddered involuntarily, her feathers ruffling in discomfort. She had seen the after effects of the death sticks. Last year she had come across a deer with a hole in its chest, blood pouring out of the wound. She held the creature’s head and wept for it as its spirit went back to the land. 

“That may be that some are dangerous… But this female is different.” Flower countered, it was a weak argument but she truly believed it. “I don’t think she and her clan are bad. They don’t mean harm like the others. They come for a week and stay in their own area, living in their round cloth house. They don’t venture far beyond the human site. They come and leave. And they don’t have the death sticks.”

“How can you defend them? How do you know that they won’t in the future?” 

Flower stammered, “I-I don’t know… I’ve been watching them for years and I believe it in my heart.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” Sage gave up arguing with the stubborn blonde. “Let’s just go and get this over with. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can get back and go to sleep. I’m on fishing duty and Magda has a ridiculous order to fill for the feast, so I need to be rested.”

Flower raised her eyebrow in silent questioning.

“Uh, is your head full of cottonwood fluff? It’s the Midsummer celebration in five nights or did you forget? It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Right… Yeah, I know, how could I forget?” Flower recovered quickly, then added, “We’re taking our Vows and final steps to becoming women in the Coven.” She faked enthusiasm and resumed walking as her friend fell into step next to her. She was grateful that Sage wasn’t pushing the matter and the pair walked in silence. 

She kept her expression calm and neutral to allay suspicions of her internal struggle. Her heart ached, saddened by the reality that her childhood was almost over and her free spirit was about to be reined in by her responsibilities to the Coven. But she had always known this day would come. It was her duty to her people and an honor to protect the land she called home. Her head was full as well, mulling over everything she and Sage talked about regarding the humans. It filled her with fear and doubt, but she couldn’t ignore her curiosity. Maybe the other Veela was right. She should get over this childhood fantasy.

The sharp smell of smoke and fire filled her nostrils as they approached the outskirts of the human site. They crept in the shadows, just out of line of sight. 

Flower’s heart was pounding, her breath coming fast. She saw the colorful round houses. This time there were two built, but she still recognized the red one from the previous summers.

She had stumbled upon this site ten years earlier, when she was eight. She had gotten frustrated by some of the other girls, who had teased her relentlessly for being scared of the dark. To prove she wasn’t scared, she set out one night to walk in the forest. And she would do it completely alone! She would show them! No one would ever again think she was a scaredy-chick.

She had never expected to find humans that night. She knew they existed, of course. She had heard the stories and warnings from the Elders. But there was a huge difference between hearing about them and seeing them in the flesh. There were three of them sitting around the fire. Two adults and a child from the looks of it. The adults frightened her. But the child was different. It wasn’t scary. It didn’t even look dangerous. It looked innocent. In fact, it reminded her a lot of herself and the others her age, minus the feathers and wings. She wasn’t even aware that humans were capable of being that small. 

Due to the thick layers of cloth, she was unable to fully discern the child’s sex, though it appeared more feminine at first glance. Veela were all female and mated pairs underwent special changes to accommodate procreation. Other species in the forest had males and females. She was unaware of which was the case for humans. She carefully studied the child and picked out the details she could. 

She (she would assume female until proven otherwise) had big brown eyes. Her hair was a wild and bushy mess of brown curls. She would giggle occasionally as she poked a long stick into the fire, hovering some white thing over the flames. 

Flower watched the group of humans, completely fascinated. She couldn’t get enough. Everything about them was strange to her. Their speech, their clothes, their food, even the way they moved about. They were stiff and clunky, like they were unaccustomed to the woods and out of balance with the energy around them. Their camp was full of strange objects that she had never seen before. A few things stuck out in her mind. A metal stick that glowed like a fire on one end. The shiny water cup was interesting, too. The ones she knew were hewn from wood or clay. She watched them for hours, leaving when they doused their fire and crawled into their little hut. 

She returned each night after that, quietly watching and studying them from afar. The girl was inquisitive, often looking at rocks or twigs or even insects she found around their site, chattering excitedly. Other nights she would sit with a square thing in her lap, flipping through the thin leaves. 

Flower had been sorely disappointed the night she came back and they were gone. She returned a few more nights to check but the site remained empty. And then a new group showed up. They weren’t as fun to watch as the others. They were loud and threw their trash all around. Typical human behavior. She left them alone. 

She started checking the site periodically, though as she grew up, she became busier with lessons and duties in the Coven. She kept her trips a secret, only telling Sage. The Elders would have her feathers if they knew she was actively seeking out and spying on the humans. 

She was delighted to see the girl again the next summer. She had changed slightly. She was taller and her hair bushier. Like the summer before, she would watch from afar, up a tree or hidden in a bush. Very careful to stay out of sight.

Over the years this became something of a tradition. After the first few years she managed to pinpoint the week that the human clan would be there. She learned more about these humans, watching and making notes. Some of her more shocking discoveries were the ways the humans also changed with time. The first time she saw the adult male with a beard had been baffling to her. Hair didn’t grow there! She also learned that the child was most definitely female. The summer before last she was surprised to see that the girl had started to develop breasts and her hips had become curvier. 

She became bolder as time passed, a few times she even entered the site when it was unused. She found weird objects left behind, which she started collecting and stashing in a hollow tree near the Village. She had no idea what these trinkets could possibly be for, but they were shiny and she liked them. She also knew it was contraband and she would get in serious trouble if her cache was found. But it was worth the risk. They reminded her of the little girl who had sparked this curiosity. 

“Hey! Pay attention!” Sage hissed, snapping Flower out of her memories and back to the present. She hadn’t realized they had walked so far. “Is that them?”

Flower crept along, stopping next to her friend, who was crouched low behind a tree trunk, peering through a bush. The brunette was gripping her staff tight, ready to use it if necessary. She couldn’t see through the dense foliage so she stood and stuck her head around the side of the tree to get a better look. 

Her heart stopped when she saw the girl. Woman. She had changed so much over the last year. Her face had lost its youthful appearance, her features more mature and defined. She had filled out completely, her body was slender yet curvy in the right places. Her curls had lost their usual bushiness and flowed in gentle waves. She was surprised to note that this disappointed her a little. She thought the hair was rather endearing. It was so different from her own.

But despite the changes there was one constant. Her eyes were still soft and inquisitive, sort of golden brown. They were deep and intelligent, they drew her in. And they were staring straight back at her, a small smile creeping over her full pink lips. 

Flower gasped when she realized she had been seen and instantly pulled herself behind the tree, her hand clutched to her heart as if that would calm its erratic beating. It didn’t. 

“Let’s go.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah. We shouldn’t be here.” Flower responded hurriedly, not wanting to engage her friend in a debate. They needed to go. Now. She pulled her friend to her feet and started walking away at a brisk pace. She didn’t hear sounds that indicated that the young woman was following them but she didn’t want to find out. She had already been incredibly careless that night. 

“Great, no need to tell me twice.”

The two Veela took to the sky as soon as they were a safe distance from any humans.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hermione, what are you staring at, dear?”

“Oh, I thought I saw something but it was nothing, mum…” the brunette waved her hand dismissively and sat down in her camp chair, pulling out her journal. Her smile broadened as she thought. 

Over the years she was certain she had been seeing things. At first she thought it was her imagination, but then she wasn’t so sure when the signs became more consistent. A rustle here. A shadow there. A snapping branch in the trees. But tonight she had a confirmed sighting. She had researched various cryptid sightings and conspiracy theories in the area and around the world but without actual proof her guess was as good as anyone else’s. But now… now she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the forest spirit was still out there, silently watching over her. Not only that, but she looked like a woman with platinum hair. She made several notes in her journal. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's not Wednesday but I'm too excited and decided to post early.
> 
> A/N… A slight change to Flower’s character. I’ve done some reflection on the Veela language for this story and came to a realization about her name. Her name means Flower but at this point in the story she only speaks Veela, not French. So it makes no sense to give her a French name. So I’ve gone through and edited ch1 and will refer to her as Flower moving forward for the time being. Sorry for the inconsistency! Should be smooth sailing moving forward.

The next afternoon, Flower was sitting on a log near the central fire pit, her deft fingers weaving a basket out of dyed reeds and cattail fronds. 

The activity around the Village was starting to die down as the evening approached. Groups of Veela had started returning from their tasks in the woods. Others moved about quietly, finishing up their chores around camp or helping with preparations for the upcoming celebration. A group of women sat together forming dishes and pots out of clay. A few hunters were busy tanning hides. Another worked in the smoke house drying and curing meats. Some, like her, sat around working on their weaving. Several worked on weaving looms that hung from the tree branches. A few women huddled around the cooking fires preparing the shared evening meal. Everything and everyone had a purpose and a task and everyone contributed to the community, ensuring the Coven’s survival. 

A group of young chicks were playing and running through the wooden sleeping huts and community buildings. Their peals of laughter and squeals punctuated the calm and added a playful liveliness to the Village’s quiet atmosphere. They were young, not yet fledglings; she could tell they were no more than five summers, maybe less. They all had their white downy fluff, making them look like moving cotton balls. Their colored adult feathers would start growing in the next year or two. 

Flower was deep in thought, concentrating as she formed intricate patterns through the body of the basket. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear someone approaching her from behind - a mistake she would pay dearly for when strong fingers dug into her sides, tickling her mercilessly.

“Damn it, Sage, you made me lose my spot!” Flower hissed in annoyance. Her wings opened wide behind her to blindly swat at her friend.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you working.” The brunette apologized quickly, retracting her fingers. She flopped down on a patch of soft grass next to Flower’s log, leaning on her side with her head propped up on a fist. Once settled she fished out some dried meat strips from her satchel, offering one up to the blonde to make amends. 

“Something on your mind?”

“Yes! Trying to finish this basket in time.” Flower huffed but accepted the snack, “We can't all goof off annoying our friends all day. Some of us have work to do around here!”

“Hey, I work! I spent all day up to my thighs in the water chasing trout. I hate the water! My skin is all wrinkly now!” the brown haired Veela complained. “I expect a proper thanks when you’re eating delicious fish at the celebration. I caught some really big ones!” 

“Do you want praise for doing your job?” Flower teased lightly and started up her pattern again, working in silence.

“Guess not,” the brunette chewed thoughtfully as she stared into the flames, “But that’s not what I meant and you know it. You can weave a basket in your sleep with one hand behind your back. The face you’re making is the ‘I’m deep in thought face’ but I can never tell what you’re thinking about.”

Flower snorted softly, “Says the one who claims to know me so well.”

“Well, I’m just saying I know when things are bothering you but I’m not a mind reader! I can’t tell _what_ specifically is bugging you. And let’s be real, there is a very long list of things that could potentially be annoying you. You’re very easily flustered. I’m good but I’m not _that_ good.”

Flower rolled her eyes as her fingers kept up their rhythm.

“So… You wanna talk about it?”

Flower hedged, not wanting to discuss the real topic on her mind so she offered a lame response, hoping it would get her friend off her case. “I admit my mind has been wandering a bit, but it’s just because of all of the tasks we have to get ready to prepare for the festival. There’s so much left to do and not a lot of time left to do it.” 

“You’re stressed, I get it. I know this is a big deal for you but you’ve got this,” the brunette looked up, giving her an encouraging smile. “Remember, you’re just saying your Vows this year. They won’t expect you to start fully taking over right away. And you won’t be alone, you know? You’ve still got your mothers and the council of Elders to guide and support you.”

“Yeah, but it’s still worrisome. I don’t want to fail the Coven.”

“Which is how we know you’ll make a fine leader one day. You care so much and you’ll look out for us. I trust you. No matter what, I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, that means a lot.”

The young women sat in comfortable silence for a few moments before Sage spoke again.

“Now do you want to cut the shit and tell me what’s really on your mind?”

“I thought you couldn’t…” Flower stammered.

“I might not be able to read your mind but I can read your face. Your eyebrow twitches when you’re not telling the truth. Is this about last night?”

“I… maybe…” Flower shrugged, trying to sound noncommittal. 

“You should leave it alone, Flower.”

“I know… it’s just…”

“It’s just nothing. You really shouldn’t go back again. Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve kept it up this long and haven’t gotten caught yet.” Sage sat up, suddenly very serious. “Come on, be smart about this. You’re playing with fire and it’s only a matter of time before you get burned. I mean, what if they saw you? You’re needlessly endangering yourself and all of us!”

Flower paused, guilt weighing heavily on her heart. She hadn’t told her friend that the human girl had seen her. “Yeah, I know it’s risky.”

“Risky?” Sage scoffed in disbelief, growing angry at Flower’s relaxed attitude. “Flower, you’ve seen what humans do… I don’t care that you think that girl is good. She’s still a human and you don’t know her! Promise me you won’t go back!”

“Fine! No need to get ruffled!” Flower snapped back, still annoyed. “I don’t get why you’re so protective of me… it’s not like we’re intended.”

Sage opened her mouth to retort but closed it and gazed off. When she spoke again her voice was distant, laced with sadness. “Is it wrong for me to care about my friend?”

Flower grimaced, knowing she was the cause of her friend’s hurt. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I know you care. And I care about you, too. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sage got to her feet and rubbed the back of her neck, carefully not making eye contact, “I’m gonna go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sage?”

“It’s fine, Flower. I just am gonna clear my head.” The brown Veela got up and walked off without a second look. 

Flower sat stiffly, her eyes trailing after her friend. Her heart was at war with itself, completely torn. On the one hand, Sage was right, but she couldn’t deny her curiosity for the other brunette who had caught her eye. For once in her life she wasn’t sure what to do.

In the end she swallowed down her emotions and turned her attention back to her basket as a distraction. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione spent all day watching the spot where she had seen the young woman the night before, though she was certain that the spirit wouldn’t visit again until later. She couldn’t help it, her excitement level was through the roof and she was so curious. Finally all these years she had proof. And not a moment too soon. This was her last summer of ‘family vacation’ with her parents. They were moving to Australia for her father’s work and she had already moved to her own flat in London to attend university that fall. There would be no chances after this. 

It had been a fleeting glance, so fast that if she had blinked she might have missed it. Of course she had inspected the area in the light but hadn’t found any bit of evidence. Not even a footprint in the soft earth! That had been more than a little frustrating and made her wonder if maybe she had imagined things. But she knew what she had seen hadn’t been a trick of the light and she was even more determined to prove it. 

She sighed and pulled out her journal and colored pencils and began flipping through the pages. She had the site to herself today so she didn’t bother hiding her notebook. Her parents had gone on a hike for the day and she had opted to stay behind under the guise that she wanted to read ahead for her upcoming semester. No harm in being prepared. And in her defense, she _had_ spent part of the morning reading her new textbooks, so it wasn’t a total fib. 

She slowly skimmed as she flipped through her journal. She had done an extensive amount of research on the lore of the area. There wasn’t much to go on but she had filled the pages with the excerpts from old texts, newspaper clippings and online articles that she could find. Anyone trying to read her work would have probably laughed and told her she needed to check herself into the mental ward. 

Thanks to the rise in social media there had been an uptick in evidence. In recent years there had been a number of hunters who claimed to have seen large birds, bigger than anything that would be native to the area, but when they went to investigate, the birds were gone. Last year a hunter even claimed to have seen an angel over his deer kill. There was another reported sighting of ‘the angel in the woods’ from a hiker, but he stated that she had disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

Was that possible? Was there a connection between these claims? They did seem to line up. But even if there was a correlation, that didn’t mean that her mystery woman was the same one in these stories. Besides, both eye witnesses described large wings and she hadn’t seen wings last night. Then again, the woman was mostly concealed by a tree, so it wasn’t out of the question. 

She flipped to her last entry and continued sketching what she had seen. Half a face hiding around a tree. It wasn’t much but it was better than before. Once satisfied with her work, she turned her thoughts to ways she could make contact. Her head was buzzing with all sorts of questions. 

_Who was she? Why was she there? Was it her all these years who had been watching the camp? Was she alone? Were there others? If so, how many were out there?_

She paused her train of thought and her rational brain kicked on for a second, chastising herself. Did she actually think there were winged guardians of the woods or was it all just the ramblings of crazy people? _What if her ‘forest spirit’ just turned out to be some other camper or a peeping Tom?_ What a disappointment that would be, not to mention highly disturbing. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought. But she didn’t believe that. A person couldn’t possibly be so elusive after all these years and they would have definitely left a footprint. 

The only way to prove it and get her answers would be to make contact and see for herself.

She had to admit, now that she had a glimpse, she was now dying to meet this woman. But did the woman want to meet her? She seemed like it, at least she hadn’t appeared hostile. _Why else would she lurk about like she did if she wasn’t curious?_ She looked so frightened when she realized she had been spotted. 

Hermione tapped the end of her pencil on her chin as she thought. _How could she show she was trustworthy? What would a forest spirit want in return?_ In the films it always showed the protagonist making contact by offering food or healing. Since the latter didn’t seem relevant she had to plan for the former. That brought up even more questions. _Did she eat? If so, what? Was she a herbivore or carnivore? Maybe both?_

She was still mulling over her questions by the time her parents returned. Fortunately they were so tired from their hike that they went to bed right after dinner. _Perfect._ She was glad she had opted to bring her own tent and gear this year, this way she wouldn’t disturb them if she was awake late. 

She waited until the sun dropped below the horizon before setting the stage for her first attempt at making contact. She prepared a small plate with a handful of trail mix. She left the food next to the tree where she had seen the woman. Once everything was in place, she sat by the fire and waited.

A twig snapped loudly and jolted Hermione awake and she sat up straight in her camping chair. She internally cursed herself for nodding off and her eyes immediately flicked over to the tree. She could see the underbrush rustling slightly and she slowly stood up, her soft brown eyes fixed and focused. Without looking away, she reached out and grabbed her journal, pencils, and torch, tucking everything under her arm.

“Show yourself… Please…I know you’re there,” she whispered, mostly to herself. She took a few cautious steps away from the camp, her heart thundering in her chest. She was just at the edge of the firelight, just one step away from the shadow and answers. Just one more step.

A loud screech broke the silence. There was a flash of white and a flurry of activity in the bushes nearby. And then the forest went still again.

Despite being started half to death, she somehow found the willpower to silence her scream. She didn’t want to scare the cryptid more and she couldn’t risk waking her parents.

All of her instincts telling her to run back to camp but she steeled her nerves and stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes scanning through the trees for signs. She sighed heavily when she saw nothing and went to check her plate. She couldn’t help the smile that broke out over her face. Everything had been sorted into neat little piles, but it looked like nothing had been removed or eaten. 

She sat down, leaning against the tree and quickly scribbled her observations, resting the torch between her chin and shoulder. When she was done, she turned off the light and stayed there, her head tilted back against the tree. She closed her eyes, content to enjoy the peaceful calm offered by the forest. Hoping.

Hermione waited for an hour or so but the woman never returned, so she turned in for the night, feeling rather elated by the progress and results from her little experiment. She had learned so much from the brief encounter and was starting to form a new hypothesis. But at the same time she felt like she was left with more questions than answers. 

The screech and sudden retreat confirmed her suspicions that the woman was shy and cautious. She hadn’t lashed out aggressively when she had been startled. The flash of white was a surprise and certainly supported the ‘forest angel’ theory, but again she hadn’t seen wings. She wished that she had managed a better look. 

Hermione mused about the food. The forest spirit was clearly intelligent and capable of logic, having separated out the trail mix into neat little piles of raisins, chocolate chips, peanuts, and cashews. She wondered if she hadn’t eaten anything out of fear of humans or because she didn’t know everything was edible. 

Sleep evaded her while she mulled everything over, but she was already planning for the night to come. 

The next night of observations started off pretty much the same as the previous night. Her parents stayed up later than the night before but they still turned in early. As soon as they were in their tent, Hermione sprang to action, preparing another plate of trail mix. 

She set the food in the same spot as before and moved away to find a good observation spot with a clear, unobstructed view. She sat with her back leaned against a tree trunk about twenty feet away. And there she waited. She wanted to use her torch but she figured it would probably scare the woman away. Besides, the moon was still full and provided enough light to make out some details.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione felt the hairs on the back of her neck sticking on end and the feeling that she was being watched settled in her gut. But she calmed her nerves and stayed perfectly still, her eyes slowly scanning the woods.

Hermione couldn’t believe her eyes. There she was, standing in a small clearing a way off. The moonlight illuminated her features and for once the stories were true. She really did look like an angel, white wings and all. She was standing as still as a statue, watching her intently, apparently surprised to see her sitting in wait. 

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, but she stayed as still as possible, barely daring to breathe. She was afraid that any movement would startle the woman and cause her to run away again.

Their eyes met, neither woman seemed capable of looking away or were willing to back down. Time stood still for a moment and they just stared in silence.

Slowly, the blonde woman took a tentative step forward.

Hermione watched with bated breath as the woman approached her, weaving between the oak and chestnut trees. She seemed nervous, her pale eyes shifting as if taking in her surroundings, ready to run at a moment’s notice. It was agonizingly slow progress, but it felt like she was witnessing something truly amazing and she wouldn’t jeopardize the opportunity.

The woman stopped a healthy distance away, seemingly unwilling to close the gap, but still it was more than she could ever hope for. Even in the dark, they were close enough that Hermione had a clear view of her. She was absolutely breathtaking, impossibly beautiful and exuded power and elegance. She was clad in an elegant flowing gown and her overall appearance reminded her a lot of the elves in Lord of the Rings… except with feathers and wings. It made her wonder where she got the fabric, it didn’t look like anything she had ever seen before. The woman looked healthy and strong, which suggested that she did indeed live in the forest and not by accident. A lost hiker would look dreadful and this woman was anything but. 

Hermione stared, taking note of all of her details and committing it to memory so she could properly sketch her later. 

After a few more minutes of study on both sides, the blonde opened her mouth and ‘spoke’ but it sounded like a string of whistles and chirps. 

Hermione was unable to hold back her excitement at this revelation, and words started tumbling out of her own mouth. 

“Oh my god! You talk?!? Well, I mean you speak a language! Oh god, this is amazing! Wait just there!” She turned and reached for her journal that she had stashed behind her back. She was so excited that she forgot she was supposed to be keeping still and calm. Her heart sank when she looked back and the clearing was empty, the sounds of crickets and disappointment echoed in her ears. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Flower wasn’t sure why she was approaching the human. It was clear she had been seen. She should be running. She could hear Sage’s warnings in the back of her mind as she approached. But she couldn’t help it. Years of built up curiosity coaxed her to action and helped her get over her nerves. After all this time they were going to meet. 

She walked slowly, the brown haired woman stayed sitting and made no attempt to move. There was nothing aggressive about her posture. That was a small comfort at least.

She stopped about ten feet from the woman on the ground. They stayed there for several long minutes, just studying one another. She decided to take a leap of faith. 

“Who are you?” 

The woman’s eyes got wide and she started chattering excitedly in human language, reaching behind her back to grab something. 

Flower didn’t see what it was, she was already gone by the time the woman looked back.

She ran as swiftly as she could, dodging and weaving through the forest. She stopped once her lungs and legs were burning, leaning hard against a tree to catch her breath. She wasn’t worried about being followed. There was no way for a human to keep up with her. 

She closed her eyes and leaned with her back against the tree, not bothered by her squished wings. A large smile spread across her face. She started to laugh, softly at first then uncontrollably until warm tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She couldn’t help it. Her system was flooded with adrenaline and endorphins. It had been terrifying and she knew it was wrong on so many levels. Yet, it was so exhilarating. She felt alive and she couldn’t wait to go back. Tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be times we bounce between Veela and English. So the ‘foreign’ language relative to the main POV will be in bold. So if Fleur’s POV, English will be bolded and Veela will be displayed as regular dialogue.  
> Also... posting schedule? What posting schedule? I'll be switching both Woman of the Woods and Heart of Darkness off of a set posting schedule (that just stressed me out too much) but I will post regularly, have no fear.

Hermione was still kicking herself when she woke up the next morning. She was certain that the woman would have stayed if she hadn’t been such an excitable prat and scared her off. Maybe they could have interacted more. Still, she had filled several pages with sketches and observations. But she still had so many questions!

She could only hope that maybe she would be back tonight. Maybe, just maybe she would get another chance. And this time she wouldn’t blow it.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. It was nearly 11pm and there had been no sign of the ethereal winged woman. Perhaps she had really scared her off for good. She sighed once more and grabbed her torch (still turned off), journal and pencils and pushed herself up. She wobbled for a second on unsteady feet as blood rushed back to her lower extremities, wincing and bracing herself against the tree trunk she had been leaning against for the better part of two hours. She hated when her limbs fell asleep.

She was about to turn back toward her campsite when a rustling of leaves caught her attention. With bated breath she turned in the direction of the sound, her heart clenching as she dared to hope. She was back. 

Hermione stood still as a statue, her eyes unblinking as she watched the woman approach. Tonight she seemed bolder than the night before, walking directly at her rather than hiding herself behind trees. Just like last night she stopped about ten feet away, watching her cautiously but the unmistakable glint of curiosity danced in her sky blue eyes. She seemed to be studying her just as intensely.

Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to waste her time just staring like an idiot, she didn’t know how long she would have tonight. She held up her hands in a non threatening manner and slowly lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross legged on the mossy forest floor. She set her dark torch, journal and pencils out in front of her this time to show they weren’t dangerous. This way she was prepared to take notes if she wanted to, which she figured was highly likely. 

The woman watched her every move with great interest, tilting her head to the side in a truly adorable fashion. It was like she had never actually interacted with a human before. Which, given her behavior, was almost certainly the case. 

The blonde took a few tentative steps forward and came to a stop about five paces from where Hermione sat. She crouched down in a squatting position, leaning forward with one hand on the ground to steady herself. Her knees were tucked against her chest, her wings twitched nervously but stayed folded. Her muscles were tense, ready to dart away at the first sign of danger. 

“Hello…” Hermione whispered, keeping her tone as neutral as possible, even though she was internally screaming. 

The woman tilted her head again, glacial eyes bore into her. She made a hissing noise but it didn’t sound angry or threatening. 

Hermione wondered if she should try to repeat it. _Would that be rude? What if it was something bad?_ She decided to go for it and did her best to imitate the sound. 

The blonde straightened up a little and her eyes searched the brunette's face for a moment. Apparently she was pleased by the effort and started chattering excitedly. She fell silent after noting the dumbstruck look on the other woman’s face and tilted her head again. Her mannerisms were incredibly bird-like and it was oddly endearing.

Excitement coursed through Hermione’s veins and she desperately wanted to start taking notes of the interaction. Remembering her mistake last night, she forced herself to stay calm. She gestured to her journal and very slowly opened the cover, flipping through the pages to find her recent notes. 

The woman recoiled slightly but made no attempt to move away. Once she seemed certain there was no danger, she craned her neck forward a little to watch. She made a gasping sound when she saw the drawings of herself and she took an awkward shuffle-step forward, still in her crouching position, chattering quietly. 

“Do you like it? It’s you. Well, nothing like seeing you in person. I’m sorry I’m not a better artist. This really doesn’t do you justice in the slightest but it’s the best I could manage.” Hermione admitted sheepishly as she looked between her drawing and her muse. She felt even sillier for apologizing when she knew that the woman had no idea what she was saying. She pushed the notebook into the space between them and retracted her hand. 

A slender finger reached out and touched the drawing. The blonde was hesitant at first but then she seemed to gain confidence and stroked the picture. She made a sort of chirrup sound this time. 

Hermione blinked and quickly pondered what that meant. She tried repeating it again, doing her best to imitate the noise. It was more complicated than the hiss. Bright blue eyes flashed up to meet hers, as if surprised to hear her trying to ‘converse’ in her language. The woman seemed pleased and ruffled her feathers, then pointed back to the page, repeating the sound.

“Is that your name?” Hermione pondered aloud. She pointed to the picture and then to the woman and made the chirping noise. 

The blonde bounced on her toes and chirped several times. 

Feeling encouraged, Hermione pointed to herself and slowly enunciated “Hermione.” When she was met with another head tilt, she tried repeating her name and gesturing to herself. “Hermione.”

“Eh-mih-nee.” The blonde had a slightly strained look as she struggled through the strange sounds, her mouth and tongue moving in an exaggerated fashion. Despite the breathiness and choppiness, she had a rather soothing voice, a soft soprano. Apparently she was as accustomed to speaking English as Hermione was to speaking in chirps and hisses. Which was to say, not at all. 

“Fantastic, absolutely fantastic,” Hermione whispered quietly, nodding her encouragement. It took every ounce of willpower and then some not to freak out. She was not a language expert, but she had read a little on the subject. She knew that each language had different patterns, phonemes, combinations of sounds, and rhythms, so it made sense that the woman would have difficulty tackling such foreign sounds. Honestly, it impressed her that she was able to speak as well as she had. At least when she had learned basic French, she had some foundations to build upon. She repeated her name once more, speaking slowly and clearly. “Hermione.”

“Eh-mih-nee,” she repeated with slightly more confidence.

Hermione smiled and nodded, then tried to speak what she assumed was the woman’s name. She pointed at herself and said her name, then pointed at the woman and chirped, causing a small smile to spread across the blonde’s face. 

Itching to write this down, she pointed to the torch to indicate her intent. She held it bulb down so that when she turned it on it wouldn’t blind them and also so it wouldn’t startle the forest dweller. She slowly tilted it, revealing a bit of light. The blonde hissed at it at first but then found it rather amusing. She boldly reached out to touch it, then snatched it out of Hermione’s hand. She chattered excitedly as she carefully inspected it, spinning it around, blinding the brunette a few times. 

It was a bit of a struggle for Hermione to wrangle the torch back from the inquisitive one. She hoped that the light wouldn’t disturb her parents but they were far enough into the forest that she doubted the light would make it to camp.

Torch back in hand, she reached out and took her notebook back, turning to a blank page and quickly scribbling down some observations, though she was rather puzzled how she would translate a sound into letters in a meaningful way. She ended up writing “chirrrrUP” as her best interpretation.

When she looked up she was surprised to see the woman had wandered off and seemed to be searching for something in the underbrush. She returned moments later with a small flower between her fingers. She held it out and set it in the space between them, making the same sound as before.

“Flower? Your name means flower?” Hermione frowned for herself, that didn’t seem right. They were in France after all. “Fleur.” 

The blonde blinked and looked expectantly at the flower then back to Hermione, who pointed to the flower then to the woman and said “Fleur.”

“Ferr.” 

Hermione paused and emphasized the oral motor movement for ‘F’, which Fleur imitated. Once Fleur had a grasp on that, she demonstrated the movement for ‘L’, tongue to roof of mouth behind teeth then dropping. After several attempts at ‘L’ they worked on stringing the two sounds together for ‘FL’.

“Fa-lerr… Fa-lerr… Flerr!” Fleur’s bright blue eyes were swimming with excitement.

“This is bloody brilliant!” Hermione exclaimed and made a note in her book as the woman repeated her best versions of “Hermione” and “Fleur,” looking rather proud of herself but determined to try to get them right.

Hermione’s eyes widened and her breath hitched as she saw Fleur inch forward with her hand extended. _‘Oh my god, is she going to try to touch me?’_ Hermione’s pulse quickened in anticipation. She was going to let this happen. She had been waiting all this time and she wasn’t about to get cold feet now. 

A surprisingly soft fingertip poked her cheek and retracted a split second later as if burned. But the hand returned and carefully stroked her cheek as Fleur cooed quietly to herself, clearly having a one sided conversation. “Eh-mih-nee.”

Hermione was speechless, completely gobsmacked by Fleur’s newfound boldness. She was under the impression that the blonde woman was shy given their previous ‘interactions.’ Now that they were interacting properly, she turned out to be rather brazen and seemed to lack an understanding of personal bubbles. 

She started writing again in her journal while she let Fleur play with her hair, the curls seemed to intrigue and amuse the blonde. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t realize that Fleur had moved from her position. She jumped a little but otherwise made no indication that she was startled when she felt something soft pressing against her side. 

Fleur had come to kneel beside her, her broad wing nudging into her ribs as she got settled. Given their size, they didn’t fold entirely flush with her body and sort of stuck out to her sides and into the space between them. The blonde chattered quietly as she watched the other woman write. 

“I’m writing down things about you. I've never met someone like you and you're very interesting,” Hermione explained as if that would help, speaking as she wrote down her observations. The blonde seemed rather talkative and she felt it strange she was not reciprocating. As badly as she wanted to reach out and touch Fleur, she managed to refrain. If the blonde wanted to be touched she would indicate… maybe. Regardless, she didn’t want to offend her or scare her off. This was more progress than she had ever hoped for and in such a short timeframe. She would have expected this kind of behavior after many days if not weeks. But she wasn’t about to question it.

Fleur watched her work for a while but then reached out and snatched the pencil, holding it up to examine it. She looked at it. She smelled it. She tried chewing on the end. The face she pulled was the purest look of disgust that Hermione had ever seen and said it all. _‘Pencils do not taste good.’_

Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at Fleur’s expense but it was too cute.

Fleur tried to imitate the sound but ended up making a sort of coughing sound instead. She switched to clicking her tongue rapidly, which Hermione assumed was her version of giggling. Or she was telling her off for laughing at her. She had no way of knowing. Fleur looked between the pencil and the journal, gently nudging Hermione’s knee with her hand and gesturing to the paper.

“You want… oh, uh, sure.” Hermione turned to a blank page and scooted the book over to the winged woman, who started scratching the pencil across the page. At first Hermione thought she was just imitating her writing but she all but stopped breathing when she saw what a Fleur was actually doing. She was drawing. And she was drawing exceptionally well, all things considered. Crystal blue eyes were locked and focused. 

Based on the way Fleur was holding the pencil it looked like she was familiar with the concept and she wondered if there was art in Fleur’s culture. It wouldn’t surprise her, most advanced cultures throughout history had developed versions of art. Based on their interactions, however brief, and the craftsmanship of her clothes, it seemed likely that Fleur was a part of a rather advanced society. While it was entirely plausible that Fleur lived alone in these woods, she assumed there were more beings like Fleur due to her rather social nature and behavior. That brought up yet another question: how had an entire community remained completely hidden and undetected for so long? 

When the blonde finished, a crude yet recognizable face of Hermione Granger was looking up at them from the page. “Eh-mih-nee.” She puffed up her chest proudly. Then she turned a few pages back to one of Hermione’s renditions of her likeness and pointed, “Flerr.” It seemed that she had accepted the name Hermione had given her. Maybe a sign of her willingness to understand human culture and English language?

Without warning, Fleur looked up to the moon and made a soft hissing noise. She silently got to her feet, chittered at her, and walked away. In seconds she had completely disappeared back into the dark forest, leaving Hermione sitting on the dirt staring after her.

“So that just happened.” Hermione exhaled loudly and flopped on her back. She pressed a palm to her forehead and laughed softly, elated by the unexpected progress. One thing was certain: her mind was absolutely spinning and sleep would not be coming easily tonight.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fleur walked briskly to a large clearing so she could take flight. Her heart pounding with excitement, her fingertips tingling. She hadn’t meant to touch the woman, Hermione, but she couldn’t help it and she had given no indication that she minded. 

“ **Eh-mih-nee. Flerr.** ” She repeated to herself as she soared along. She knew it wasn’t right and it frustrated her but the sounds were so hard to form. They made her tongue twist and move in strange ways that she was not accustomed to. Her vocal chords were starting to ache from the strain. But still she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself. She was also surprised when Hermione had attempted to repeat some of her words, though with about the same success as her own attempts at human words.

She didn’t mind that Hermione called her a different name, what she assumed was the translation of her name from Veela to human. It made her feel almost like she was a part of the brunette’s world. A pleasant warmth spread through her chest at the thought. 

The sky was starting to lighten by the time Fleur made it back to the Village. Gratefully no one was awake yet. She snuck into her hut and collapsed into her bed, curling into a tight ball under her sleeping furs. She was thankful that she didn’t have to share with anyone, otherwise this would be very hard to explain sneaking in like this. She knew she wouldn’t get much sleep and she was running on fumes from staying awake almost all night for the past nights. But it was worth it. Getting to know Hermione was worth it. ****

Fleur worked through the next day with a broad smile on her face. She was off in her own little world and thinking about her interactions with the Hermione, barely aware of those around her. Her mothers stopped by a few times to discuss what still needed to be done for the celebration, but considering it was the next night, the list was short. Mostly food preparation and Magda had that covered. Thankfully they attributed Fleur’s good mood to her being excited that everything was falling into place and they sang their praises for her organization. She wasn’t about to correct them.

Fleur managed to sneak away for a nap after the midday meal. After her rest she got back to work, keeping an eye out around the Village looking for her brown feathered friend. It felt strange to her to not see Sage; it seemed the brunette was avoiding her after their tiff the other day. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time they went more than a day without talking, Sage’s multi-day hunting trips being the exception. It unsettled her but she was too tired to care at the moment. They’d work it out later.

By nightfall she was practically bouncing around camp, eager for everyone else to retire so she could sneak off. Once the final fire had been extinguished she grabbed her satchel and ran to her hidden cache. 

**“Fork.”**

**“Fa-fa-fok.”** Fleur stuttered a little as she spun the 4-tined metal object between her slender fingers. She still struggled quite a bit with ‘R.’ **“Fok.”**

The two women were sitting on the ground facing one another. They were so close their knees were almost touching. She wasn’t sure why she was putting so much trust in this woman but being around Hermione made her feel warm and safe.

Fleur set the fork down and grabbed another object. A small yellow box with four round circles that spun around when she touched them. She held it up expectantly to the brunette to identify. 

**“Car.”** The brunette held out her hand and she deposited the object in the waiting palm.

Fleur furrowed her brow as she watched Hermione demonstrate the use, making puttering sounds as she pushed the car around on the ground. She smiled and took the car, pushing it through the leaf litter, repeating the sounds to the best of her ability. Her concentration was broken when she heard Hermione’s stomach rumbling. She set the car down and touched Hermione’s stomach.

 **“Hungry,”** the brunette shrugged.

 **“Huhng-ee…”** the Veela repeated slowly, working through the sounds. Once again she dropped the ‘R’ but she immediately recognized her mistake and tried again. **“Huhng-a-ree. Heh-mih-nee huhng-a-ree?”** she asked, cocking her head to the side. 

**“Yes. Hungry”** The brunette nodded, a gesture she understood as an affirmative. 

**“Her-mih-nee huhng-a-ree.”** Fleur clarified and reached into her bag, pulling out two strips of dried trout. She held one out to Hermione, shaking it a few times to indicate her intent. “Your stomach is empty, you should eat. It’s good. My friend caught it.” She knew that the other woman couldn’t understand a word she was saying but she felt it necessary to try to explain either way. Veela were naturally social beings; talking, touching, and social preening were common ways to reaffirm bonds within the Coven.

The brunette accepted the slice of fish and held it, raising an eyebrow as she looked it over. 

“Trout.” Fleur explained patiently, taking a bite of her own piece. She laughed when she heard Hermione trying to say the word. It made her feel better that they seemed to both be struggling with each other’s languages. But an effort was being made on both sides, so that was nice. 

The rest of the night passed quietly, both women laughing as they attempted to speak the other language, neither making particularly good progress. 

Fleur’s heart was clenching as the moon rose to full height. Her time was up. She didn’t know how to tell Hermione that this was their last time seeing one another. She reached up and cupped Hermione’s jaw in her hands. Crystal blue locked with chocolate brown as she tried to convey every emotion she was feeling inside. Even without the language barrier she didn’t have the words to describe what she was feeling.

She felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes but she was determined not to get emotional. But how could she not? After ten years of waiting, they only had four short nights together. And it was fun, more fun than she remembered having in a long time. With Hermione everything was new and exciting. A quick glimpse into a strange world. She wished they had more time, but the festival was tomorrow and there would be no more meetings after. Her heart ached and she felt more torn than ever.

 **“Her-mih-nee…”** Unable to find the words in human tongue, she switched over to Veela, “I won’t ever forget you.” Without a second thought, she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the brunette’s lips. She sighed softly, reveling in the feeling of their lips pressing together, however brief. Her actions earned a stifled squeak of surprise but otherwise she met no hesitation or rejection. She pulled away, seemingly equally surprised by her own actions, blue eyes searching brown for a reaction. She was even more surprised when the brunette leaned forward and reciprocated with a quick kiss of her own.

The kiss turned out to be a mistake because the floodgate of emotions Fleur had carefully been holding back suddenly burst. A hot tear slid unbidden down her cheek, then another. Before she could completely lose her composure, she turned and ran, taking to the sky as soon as she had an opening, even though she was still in Hermione’s line of sight. She wasn’t sure what it was that compelled her to kiss her. She had nothing to lose, she would never see this woman again. Maybe that’s why she did it. Or it was just her instincts. She didn’t really have the capacity to think about this. 

A wide-eyed brunette stared after her, trembling fingers gently brushing her lips. **“Well… shit.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @Rice and Beans for helping with the speech patterns! 
> 
> Also... Fleurmione2020 writing challenge week is coming soon! Be on lookout on social media for prompts and get ready!!


	4. Chapter 4

The Village was bustling and lively as evening settled over the land. Thanks to Fleur’s direction and delegation, the decorations had been set throughout the week leading up to the celebration. Bouquets of wildflowers littered the tabletops, garlands of grasses hung around the mingling areas, wreaths of woven willow boughs and paintings on deer hide canvases depicting highlights of the year hung from nearby trees. 

The older members of the Coven were hurrying about setting out bowls of food and refreshments on wooden tables, working by fire and torchlight once the sun went down. Young fledglings and chicks were excitedly running about or being wrangled into their dresses by their mothers. Those who had completed their tasks stood around fires or food tables, talking excitedly as they waited for the party to begin. 

Midsummer was the highlight of their year: a time of renewal and reflection, honoring the duality of life and its rhythmic ebb and flow. It marked another year gone and encouraged everyone to look forward to the future. It was also believed that on this night the connection between the material and spiritual plane was at its strongest. Those in need of the Goddess’s blessing would make their offerings in hope that their pleas would be heard and answered by their deity.

Later, once the sun set, some of the Elders would sit around the fires telling stories of Veela history, passing on the knowledge, lore, and culture to the younger generations. The night ended with the Coming of Age ritual. Those who were celebrating their 18th year would recite the ancient Vows, leaving their childhood behind. The ritual was carefully timed to end at midnight so the participants would start the new year as an adult in the coven. 

It was an exciting time and everyone was in high spirits, laughing and joking as they prepared for the festivities. Everyone except a certain Veela. 

All day Fleur’s mood had been subdued at best. Not only was she extremely tired, stressed, and irritable, but her heart was aching. She didn’t want to say goodbye to Hermione’s world. There was so much left to learn. And she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Hermione. The brunette had awakened something within her and left a mark on her heart. She could still feel the warmth in her chest when she thought of their time together and her lips tingled when she remembered their brief kisses.

By mid afternoon, everyone had learned to stay away from her, either from direct experience or word of mouth. Thankfully most attributed her foul mood to nerves for the upcoming celebration and gave her a wide berth, quietly going about their assigned tasks. They knew that on top of worrying about her Coming of Age ceremony, her mothers had given her a lot of responsibility with planning parts of the festival. It would wear on any young Veela’s nerves. 

Fleur was glad when it came time for her to start getting ready. At least she had an excuse to slip away and hide in her hut in a self imposed time-out. She knew she was being rather rude and she did feel bad for treating the others poorly but she also didn’t really care. She was feeling such a mix of emotions that she ultimately felt numb, barely holding herself together as she half heartedly preened her chest feathers. One second she wanted to scream and lash out, then cry the next. It was infuriating, especially because she prided herself on being rather calm and level headed. Most of the time at least. 

She thought it ridiculous that this woman, this _human_ woman, had such an impact on her in such a short period of time. Against all the odds, she knew that she had fallen for her, or at least she developed a strong sense of infatuation. She wasn’t sure which; she had never experienced feelings like this for anyone before. Either way it scared her. It was forbidden and she knew that she and Hermione had no future, no matter how much she wished it to be. They belonged to two very different worlds that didn’t intersect. 

In recent years several in the clan had tried to catch her eye but were politely declined. She cringed at the memory of the various failed courting attempts. Now that she was to be an adult, it would be expected for her to choose a partner, a lifelong mate. It wasn’t required of all Veela, many were unmated and were content with solitary life. But as the daughter of the current Coven leaders, she knew that she had little say in the matter. For her it was an expectation. Her mothers had made that very clear growing up. It was something she was not looking forward to, but she had a duty to fulfill. This had been a much easier prospect to accept just six days ago, but now her heart wasn’t in it. In fact, it was miles away at a campsite with a brunette woman.

Unable to do much else, she growled angrily to herself to vent her frustrations as she pulled on her traditional white gown, the soft fabric was made of finely spun cottonwood fluff. Her mood only soured when she realized that no one was there to help her lace up the back of the dress around her wings. 

“Grrrrr… Just… Hmmph… Perfect.” She grumbled and tried to reach an arm back while the other held the dress in place. She continued to swear and mutter loudly as she attempted (unsuccessfully) to fix her dress. Her tirade was interrupted by a soft knock on the wooden door.

“What?” Fleur snapped without thinking, annoyed that someone would disturb her.

“Flower?” Sage’s voice was soft, cautious. “I heard you as I was walking by. Do you need assistance?”

Fleur opened her mouth to make some snippy remark but she took a couple deep, calming breaths and sucked up her anger and pride. They hadn’t spoken since that afternoon by the fire and Sage didn’t deserve the cold shoulder. She had only been expressing her concerns. Plus she was offering to help, which she desperately needed. “Yes. Please, come in.”

Sage opened the door slowly, just in case the blonde changed her mind and threw something, it wouldn’t have been the first time. Her friend could have a fiery temper at times and she had been on the receiving end of one of her tirades more times than she cared to remember. One look at her friend and she knew she had to tread lightly. She took a deep breath and chose her words carefully, keeping her tone light. “Need help with the fastenings?”

Fleur nodded stiffly, holding the front of her dress tightly to her chest and turned to expose her bare back to her friend. She held her wings out to make things easier on Sage. They spanned the length of her hut, the tips brushing the wooden walls. 

The brunette quietly got to work, her fingers moving along the backseam, connecting the fastenings. She pulled the shoulder flaps around the wing joints, careful not to pinch any feathers. “Is that too tight or do I need to go tighter?”

Fleur gave a gentle flap of her wings to test, “Maybe a little tighter.”

Sage nodded and pulled a little harder, lacing the final flap closed to her friend’s specifications. 

Once the dress was in place Sage ran her fingertips across the white feathers of Flower’s wings, smoothing them down. She marveled at their softness and color as she preened them. Most Veela sported feathers with earth tones, patterned with shades of brown, red, black, or grey, but Flower’s feathers were pure white. Unique and one of a kind, just like the woman herself. 

She remembered that Flower had been teased when they were younger. When all the other girls their age started getting their colored adult feathers the blonde’s remained just as white as they had been when she was hatched. Sage knew even back then that the future leader was special, though she was too young to understand her feelings. As they grew up her attraction continued to develop and grow, but she had never outwardly expressed her feelings, worried that it might jeopardize their friendship. 

Sage sucked in her breath and tried to keep her feelings in check. She knew talking about what was on her mind would inevitably end in another argument and she wasn’t ready for that. She was just grateful her friend was allowing her to be close again. 

Fleur purred softly at the soft touches but thought nothing of it. Social grooming was common practice, especially among close friends. Preening the hard to reach areas showed trust, gave comfort to both parties, and helped reaffirm social bonds.

“So, are you ready for tonight?” The brunette asked cautiously as she continued her gentle ministrations, breaking the silence.

“I guess. I know I should be excited but this… it’s so overwhelming.”

“Yeah, I get it. But like I said before you’ve got your mothers and the council.” Sage paused and took a breath and a chance, “And it will be easier when you choose your mate. You know, help shoulder the responsibilities.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. That’s all my mothers have been talking about for the last month.” Fleur’s head lolled to the side, enjoying the feeling of Sage’s fingers carding through her feathers. 

“Have you thought any more about that? Who you might choose?” Slender fingers stilled when she felt her friend’s body stiffen and go rigid under her touch.

“Sage, I really can’t even think about that right now… I just want to get through tonight.”

“Yeah, sorry for bringing it up.” Sage quickly backtracked out of dangerous territory. “Is there anything else I can help with or are you good to finish getting ready on your own?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Fleur turned and hugged the brunette. “You’re a good friend. Always have been, always will be.”

Sage knew that her friend meant no harm but it still hurt, cutting like a dagger to the heart. She had hoped that after all this time perhaps her feelings might be reciprocated, but it seemed that she would only be viewed as a friend. It was unfair of her to assume that the future leader would pick up on her growing feelings, especially when she hadn’t made her intentions known. Her eyes began to water as the words echoed in her ears. _“You’re a good friend. Always have been, always will be.”_ She needed to get out now. “Yep, always. I’m gonna just…” she was out the door before she finished her sentence.

Fleur blinked after her, surprised and confused by the other Veela’s behavior. She had started to suspect that her friend had a growing attraction to her and their recent encounters confirmed these inklings. _Shit, this really complicates things._ On the one hand, she knew that Sage would make a fine mate and she was well respected in the community. On the other hand, she just didn’t reciprocate the feelings and she couldn’t lie to her friend. She couldn't enter into a lifelong agreement with the brunette. Not when her heart belonged to someone else.

Fleur finished getting ready alone, fixing her long silky platinum locks into a twisted braid with wildflowers woven in, her namesake. Once everything was in place, she took a deep breath and headed out into the night to join the celebration. 

She quickly grabbed a dish and filled it with nuts, berries, and strips of dried venison and trout. She then put on a brave face and did her best to enjoy the celebration, acting the part that was expected of her, despite the dread and trepidation pooling in her stomach. She wandered about, mingling with the other Coven members, who were all eager to offer their praise for the celebration or their support for the upcoming ceremony. As time ticked by her nerves and anxiety started to flare up. She found herself wanting to distance herself and not socialize, so she wandered over to where Trilia, the High Elder, was sitting by a fire telling stories to a group of young ones. 

Fleur smiled to herself as she settled on a log and listened in. It felt like yesterday that she was one of those little girls sitting on the grass, listening with rapt attention to the brown and grey speckled elder Veela with kind hazel eyes and silver hair. Despite having heard this story nearly every summer for as long as she could remember, she found herself leaning forward slightly to listen to their tale of origins and how the first Veela came to be. 

Trilia took a deep breath, masterfully building up the tension and anticipation among her young audience, drawing their attention before she even began her tale. 

“Long ago, long before our ancestors walked this plane, the world was an empty, dark, and desolate place. A thick smoke shrouded the Earth like a mist and the land was suffocated by ash, making it impossible for life to take hold. But from this darkness the Goddess rose. In Her infinite wisdom, she bestowed gifts upon this world. She gave us the Sun, made purely of Her fire, illuminating the world with Her light and love. She gave us the wind from Her breath and water from Her tears. With the heat of the Sun, the flowing water, and movement of the wind, the mist evaporated and the ash blew away, revealing a beautiful, barren rocky surface.”

“What does barren mean?” A little voice piped up.

“It means it was all dirt.” Another girl answered very matter-of-fact. She was older, a few auburn feathers had started to appear, sprinkled in her white plumage. 

“How can it be beautiful if it was just dirt? It doesn’t do anything.” The first girl asked. There was a collective murmur of agreement with the question from the youngest in the group. 

“Mm, my dear, just because it does not move does not make it any less important. I would say that the rocks and dirt are the most beautiful and wonderful part of this world. The soil makes it possible for plants to take root. The rock gives us and the other creatures of this world a strong foundation to walk upon. Without either, there is no life as we know it. We must remember that we must give respect and thanks to all aspects of nature, however humble it may seem.” Trilia paused and took a sip of her drink. She smiled into her cup as the girls’ eyes filled with understanding and started looking at the dirt around the campfire in a new light. She cleared her throat and continued her story, gesturing with wide, sweeping motions.

“For a time, the Goddess watched over the land but She realized there was potential for even more. She then created the first plants and creatures to inhabit the world. The mountains became full of trees, grass, and mosses. Living beings roamed the lands, from the tiny insects to mighty elk. The flowing rivers and lakes were now full of fish. Birds soared the azure sky and filled the land with their song. And everything lived in harmony, peacefully coexisting.” 

“On a Midsummer not terribly unlike tonight, when the Sun was at its strongest, the Goddess stepped through the Veil that separates the worlds. She wanted to experience the world She had created -“

“Does that mean the Goddess might come to our world again?” The same girl from before blurted out, watching the aged Veela with wide eyes. 

“Stop interrupting, Marigold!” another chick chided her friend.

“It is fine for Marigold to have questions.” The storyteller smiled patiently, her laugh lines crinkling the corners of her hazel eyes. “Yes, it is possible. On Midsummer any Veela may ask for Her blessings for the new year, but to be visited by the Goddess Herself is the rarest blessing all. One that few Veela have ever experienced in our long history. But that is a story for another time.” There was an audible gasp among the young girls. She continued her story once she was certain she had their attention again.

“When the Goddess walked on our world, She was shocked and amazed by what She found. Everything had evolved beyond Her initial vision. There were new plants, new animals, everything sharing the world together. It was more beautiful than she could have imagined and She was struck by the natural wonder of the land and its inhabitants. For a year She wandered this Earth, experiencing all life had to offer. Everything was living in harmony, maintaining a delicate balance. But with Her gift of foresight, She sensed that the peace was not to last. The smoke and ash that choked out life in the beginning of time would once again rear its head and threaten our world.”

“The humans…”the girls murmured, remembering some of the other stories they had heard. 

Trilia nodded sagely, her eyes darkening slightly, “Yes, She foresaw the rise of the human race and the threat they pose. She decided that the world would need guardians to watch over the lands. On Her final night on Earth, She created the first Veela, born of Her image and vision. We are the gatekeepers, meant to serve as the bridge between the worlds, Earth and the spirit realms. We cannot stray from these lands without risk of severing our connection to Her and leaving the Heart of the Forest vulnerable.”

There was an audible gasp from the captivated audience. Their tiny mouths hanging open, completely engrossed in the story. The Elder smiled and continued.

“For years we’ve been waiting, reading the signs and are preparing for what lies ahead. We did not know when the humans would come but now we know it's starting. They're getting bolder, sending more human scouts each year, leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake. Each year they push deeper, seeking the Heart so they might destroy it and bring back the darkness. Now more than ever we must be diligent in our work. We do not condone unnecessary violence, but we will do what we must to protect the Forest. No human has ever stepped foot in the Heart of the Forest and we intend to keep it that way. As long as the Heart remains intact, there is hope and the land will remain connected to Her.”

Fleur felt conflicted. Her feathers bristled instinctively at the thought of humans bringing about the end of the world and she felt guilty about so easily accepting the generalization. Surely not all humans were like that. She couldn’t believe that Hermione contributed to the smoke and destruction. She had seen into the woman’s eyes, felt her energy. The foretold darkness was evil but the brunette was nothing like that. She was not the enemy.

“Even with the human threat, we must always remember to dedicate our lives to serve as living examples of the peace and harmony She envisioned. Never taking too much and always returning in kind. We honor the lives we must take to survive and remember that one day our bodies will return to the ground to replenish what we borrowed. It is the Great Cycle; an interconnected web of which we are all a part. Midsummer is a time for us to remember this and give thanks to our Goddess for all we have.”

There was nothing but silence for several moments as the girls processed the story, some of their mouths still hung slack with wonder. Fleur chuckled to herself, wondering if she looked like that the first time she heard the stories. _Probably_.

“Okay my dears, the time is late and I think one of us here has a very important moment coming up that she should be preparing for.”

The chicks looked at one another, trying to figure out what Trilia meant, then a dozen pairs of eyes settled on the young adult listening in.

“Flower!” They all giggled in unison and jumped to their feet. Before she had time to react, the white Veela was suddenly all but tackled off her log by tiny excited bodies, all clamoring to hug her, chattering away.

“Alright, girls, leave Flower alone, you’ll mess up her hair and dress. This is a very special night for her and I am sure she will want to look her best.” Trilia stood and approached the swarm of chicks, sending them off to find their mothers or play.

Fleur looked up at the Elder, grateful for the intervention. “Thank you, I just can’t say no to them.” She smiled broadly for the first time all day. 

“I understand. It’s good to see how much they love you. And it’s good practice for you, too, for when the time comes.” Trilia sat down on the log next to Fleur, her brown and grey speckled wing draped protectively around the younger Veela’s back.

Fleur stiffened, the shaky dam around her heart threatened to burst. Not wanting to tempt fate and start crying in front of a respected Elder, she simply stared at the fire and didn’t reply.

“It’s okay child, I can sense that this is a very important time for you and this night has particular significance to you.” Trilia gave her a warm squeeze with her wing and clutched her hand softly, “I’ve had the pleasure of watching you grow up into a wise young woman and I know you will make the right choice and follow your heart.” The older Veela smiled knowingly and took her leave, giving Fleur some space to think.

Fleur sat quietly, just staring at the fire as Trilia’s words echoed in her head. _What was the right choice? What was her heart telling her?_ She felt so lost and confused. 

Eventually Fleur stood and joined the other Veela gathering for the ceremony. She conversed mindlessly and went through the expected motions, but her mind was miles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone… this just in… In honor of everyone’s favorite magical useless lesbians, Fleurmione Week 2020 is coming! Starts September 3 and is seven days of Fleurmione. If you’re itching to contribute, please be sure to use #FleurmioneWeek2020  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fleurmioneweek


	5. Chapter 5

As the time for the ceremony approached, the youngest members of the Coven were all tucked into bed. Only the young women taking their Vows and adults were allowed to participate in the ceremony. Everyone formed a long procession and walked into the forest, led by the Coven Elders, then their priestesses. The Veela walked in neat rows, following the trail left by generations of Veela before them, guided by the light of the moon and fireballs that hovered above the right palm of each mature Veela.

After half an hour of walking, the dense forest opened suddenly, revealing a large clearing. 

Fleur couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped her lips when she beheld the ceremony site. She had heard stories but this was her first time seeing it. A giant stone obelisk stood in the center of the perfectly circular clearing in the woods. It was at least fifteen feet tall, pointing like a needle to the sky. It was made of a solid slab of dark stone that she had never seen before; the surface shimmering in the light of the moon gave her the impression that this was not of this world. The surface was rough but weathering over the centuries had smoothed it slightly. 

There was a large stone, table-like altar placed before the pillar, moss grew along the base and up the sides but the flat top had been kept clear of moss and lichen. Several candles and bundles of herbs burned atop the flat surface, prepared in advance by the priestesses. 

Encircling the altar and monolith was a ring of evenly-spaced torches that burned brightly, casting a warm but somewhat foreboding light over the scene. 

This was their most sacred place, the true Heart of the Forest. It was the site where the Goddess entered and exited this plane for her journey countless lifetimes ago. 

Fleur could feel the energy emanating from the obelisk and surrounding earth, as if the Goddess Herself was watching down upon them. It was overpowering and filled her with warmth, clouding her mind and drawing her in. She had always felt connected to the earth but this was unlike anything she had experienced before. It was raw, primal and undiluted. It made sense why the younger Veela weren’t invited to the ceremony. It would probably be too overwhelming for them. 

Fleur barely registered that her feet were still moving and she was being ushered along by the older members of the Coven. It wasn’t until she was pulled to a stop that she blinked and came out of her semi-trance. Her eyes darted around, taking a moment to get a feel for her surroundings. She was glad to see that she wasn’t the only one struck by the awe and power of the site, the young woman next to her looked equally enamored, her eyes still wide and jaw slightly slack. That made her feel slightly better, it would have been embarrassing to be the only one affected. The rest of the coven had fanned out around them, spreading into the open space provided by the clearing. They were all standing in silent reverence of the scene before them, unmoving and eyes forward, still holding their fireballs. 

The five Elders stood in front of the monolith, forming a semicircle around the altar. Trilia, the most senior of the Elders, was standing at the center. Fleur saw her mothers, the Coven leaders, standing just off to the side of the Elders, eyes swimming with pride as they beheld their daughter.

Fleur’s eyes snapped forward when she heard Trilia begin to speak the opening words. Wise, hazel eyes slowly swept over the four young women standing before her, a serious, authoritative expression had replaced her usually kind and gentle visage. It was unsettling and Fleur felt the urge to look away but the Elder's gaze demanded attention and respect.

“Sisters, we are gathered here on this hallowed ground to bear witness to these young women leaving the cradle of childhood and taking their final steps to womanhood.” Her voice was heavy and somber rather than the playful tone she used for her storytelling, and a shiver ran unbidden up the length of Fleur’s spine. Instinctively she straightened her back and stood at full attention. Trilia’s voice carried easily in the silence, filling the open clearing. “Tonight they will receive the fire blessing of the Goddess. Carrying Her light within them, they will be recognized as women of our Coven, the Sisterhood of Veela.” She turned her gaze outward to the Veela that had been silently observing thus far. She slowly raised her arms in unison, palms up, as if acknowledging their presence.

On this cue, the rest of the Veela started humming softly, a constant monotone to accompany Trilia’s words. It was the perfect accompaniment to the buzz of energy radiating from the obelisk. 

“With Her light and wisdom to guide them, they will carry on our traditions and task of protecting this forest, as is our humble charge and sacred duty. Their work will help maintain the connection between our Goddess and these lands. When they go forth, they shall do so with the grace and blessing of our Goddess watching from above. Let us begin.”

Trilia turned her attention to the young women before her. One by one, she silently beckoned for each to step forward and kneel before the altar. Once they spoke the ancient Vows, completing their bond with the Goddess, they took their place among the observers.

The humming grew slightly louder as the excitement built. Fleur found it harder and harder to breathe as she watched, grateful that she was last to go. Maybe by then her nerves would settle down. She quietly noted that Sage was currently kneeling at the altar, her voice sounded strong and confident as she spoke. Try as she might to listen to the actual words being exchanged, her ears felt like they were full of cotton. All she heard was her pulse thundering in her ears as her heartbeat quickened in anticipation.

Before she knew it, Fleur was standing alone. By now the hum of the others had reached a fever pitch, drowning out all other sounds of the forest. Or maybe it was all in her head. She took a deep breath to try to steel her nerves and calm her beating heart. Her vision became focused solely on Trilia before her, everything in her periphery seemed to fade away. She could feel all eyes on her as she took a shaky step toward the aged Veela who had her hand extended toward her. Her body felt heavy and unresponsive, like she had forgotten how to move her limbs but she managed another step, then another. 

It felt like both an eternity and an instant for her to close the distance between them, but she made it without incident. She carefully knelt before the altar, leaning forward slightly to accommodate her wings behind her. Once settled, she placed her hands on the rough stone surface in the space between the candles. She bit back a gasp and squeezed her eyes shut, resisting the urge to pull her hands back as soon as her palms touched the stone. It was extremely warm, almost uncomfortable, which she was not anticipating. She could feel the energy radiating into her palms, slowly moving up her forearms. She quickly regained her composure and removed all signs of discomfort from her face and posture.

Fleur cast a quick glance over at her mothers, who offered a slight smile and nod of encouragement but otherwise made no reaction, before turning her pale blue eyes up to the High Elder presiding over the ceremony. She saw a look flash across Trilia’s face, a brief slip of her mask, but it happened so fast she wasn’t sure what exactly she had seen, let alone what to make of it. The brown and grey Veela took a breath before starting. 

“Flower, you kneel before the sacred altar to make your pact with the Goddess.”

“Yes. I humbly present myself to Her and ask for Her blessing so that I may go forth and fulfill Her will and vision.” 

“Very well. She is here and She is listening. Speak your Vows.”

Fleur swallowed thickly, her mouth felt like it was full of cottonwood fluff and her throat felt rougher than oak bark. She knew what to say but her tongue felt frozen in her mouth. Her cerulean orbs darted over to her mothers again before looking back to Trilia. She could do this. She had to. It was expected and she had been looking forward to this night for as long as she could remember. It was a great honor and rite of passage that every young woman must complete. _So why was she suddenly hesitating?_

Finally unsticking her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she began, hesitant despite her efforts to sound confident. 

“With Her grace and blessing, I shall strive to uphold the harmony and balance of this forest. Like my foremothers, I shall follow the way of the Veela and maintain the connection between these lands and the Goddess. I shall do this with pride and honor, never faltering, so that She may one day walk among us if She so chooses. Being sound of mind and pure of heart, I dedicate… I dedicate my…” Fleur choked on her words, her heart felt like it was crushing in her chest. The burning in her hands and arms had become more intense with each passing moment and now felt like a fire burning in her veins. She closed her eyes and her vision swam with images of Hermione. She could almost hear the brunette’s voice, her laughter echoing in her ears. 

“I can’t do this.” She whispered almost inaudibly.

“What was that, child? Speak up.” One of the Elders hissed, irritated by the stalling. 

“I can’t do this.” Fleur repeated a little louder, not failing to hear the gasps and hisses from four Elders. Trilia just watched with a neutral expression. She cleared her throat and spoke up, “I am a Veela and I will protect these lands, but I cannot sit back and live the rest of my life ignoring that there is something else out there. We swear to honor the interconnected web of life, but doesn’t that include humans? We know that humans are out there and yet we know nothing of them! If we got to know them then perhaps…”

“Flower, enough! You dare disrespect our Elders. You are making a mockery of this sacred tradition!” It was her sire-mother who spoke this time, her eyes no longer full of pride but shock and anger at her daughter’s petulance.

The humming of the Coven stopped and the clearing was filled with silence and then quiet murmurs and whispers started to spread. Fleur turned and looked behind her, all eyes were staring at her as if she had just sprouted a second head. Her eyes caught Sage’s and the look from her friend shook her to the core. She didn’t know what to do. 

Trilia held up her hand, effectively silencing everyone, “It seems that Flower has some hesitation. She is right to pause if she is not speaking these Vows wholeheartedly and with a clear mind, and she should not be discouraged from doing so. The Goddess is understanding and values truth and a pure heart. She will not look down on Flower for her choice, for to lie or speak in half truth would be the greater shame and dishonor.” Hazel eyes swept out over the crowd. Many looked apologetic and bowed their heads while others nodded in understanding. There was still a decent percentage that looked incredulous, sporting looks of thinly veiled disapproval, but they would heed and respect their High Elder’s words. Not even the other Elders dared question her, for her connection to the Goddess was absolute. 

Trilia continued with a tone of finality that left no room for argument, “It is not wrong for Flower to question, this just means she needs some guidance from the Goddess. I suggest she be given the time to go and pray to Her and perhaps She will answer and give her the answers she seeks. As midnight is nearly upon us, the window has passed for her to complete her bond. Flower will complete the ceremony next year or when she is ready and you would do well not to hold this against her.”

Fleur was grateful and shocked by Trilia’s words but she knew she couldn’t show it, not with all attention on them. She simply nodded stiffly before rising from her kneeling position, her head bowed as a sign of respect to the silver-haired Elder. She could feel hundreds of eyes boring into her, judging her, and she needed to get away. Without another word she walked away from the altar, spread her wings, and took to the sky, leaving a stunned and silent Coven behind her. 

Fleur flew off in no particular direction, with no destination in mind. She just wanted to put as much distance between herself and the Coven as possible. Eventually she touched down in a clearing, her exhaustion and sleep deprivation catching up with her. But as tired as she was, her mind was spinning, playing through the events of the evening. And then there was the matter of her conflicted heart on top of everything else.

She paced about the clearing, huffing, hissing, and flailing her arms, all the while glaring at the ground as if it had personally offended her. Her blood was boiling with frustration, disappointment, despair and a multitude of other emotions over the situation. 

“You were so close! All you had to say were a few more lines and it would all have been over! This is a disaster!” She hissed and snarled. She kicked a stone, ignoring the sting in her toe and the fact that she had been raised to leave no trace when in the woods. 

“Great, and now I’m talking to myself!” She stomped about in silence, still running circles in her mind. Never in their history had someone failed their Vows! And being the future leader? It just added insult to injury. 

One day she would be taking over leadership of the Coven and despite Trilia’s words, she knew her outburst would not be forgotten. She had seen the looks and heard the murmurs. She knew that she had shamed herself and shaken their trust in her. It wouldn’t surprise her if someone challenged her for leadership of the Coven. Usually leadership passed by bloodline but leaders could be challenged if they were not deemed worthy. It wasn’t common but it did happen on occasion. And right now she was an easy target. 

Then there was the matter of her mothers. She groaned loudly. She was not looking forward to that argument when she returned. She could already see their disapproving looks and disgust at her behavior. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” she cursed loudly, disrupting a nearby owl that hooted indignantly at her. 

She continued to storm about but eventually she realized she was just repeating herself and continuing to mentally berate herself wasn’t getting her anywhere. She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to calm down, finally looking up. She blinked in shock, surprised by her new surroundings. She was at the entrance to the crystal cave. She had been so wrapped up in her head that she hadn’t realized she had wandered from the clearing and her feet had subconsciously taken her here. She visited the cave on occasion to relax or reflect. And now seemed like an appropriate time for doing just that. With a final exasperated sigh, she stepped forward into the familiar darkness.

Fleur walked through the narrow passage, guided by the soft blue light of bioluminescent fungi that lined the walls. Despite being underground, the air didn’t feel stale or oppressive to her. She found the scent of the damp stone comforting. She also liked the echo of water dripping from the stalactites. It was rhythmic and soothing. She silently pressed onward. 

Deep within the cave, the narrow passage opened up to reveal a huge, open cavern. Hundreds of bunches of iridescent crystals jutted out of the walls and ceiling like flowers. Along the main wall of the cavern was a massive natural structure, carved over the ages by groundwater eroding the rock. The result was a tiered system of shallow pools and channels that fed into a deep stone basin, large enough to accommodate several bathers at once. The clear waters reflected the light of the fungi and gave the illusion that the pool was glowing.

Fleur eagerly slipped into the pool, not bothering with her dress, that was the least of her worries at the moment. Plus she had no way to unfasten the back. She let out an involuntary moan of pleasure as the cool waters enveloped her, the calming effect was instant. She submerged herself underwater, running her hand through her hair and pulling out the braid and flowers while she rapidly flapped her wings against her body to rid her feathers of dirt. Once satisfied, she reclined on her back, leaning her head against the stone ledge, her body floating weightlessly on the surface. She stared up at the shining crystals that lined the ceiling of the cavern. It reminded her of constellations in the night sky. Taking a few more deep breaths, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, feeling her stress and tension starting to melt away into the glowing waters. 

Fleur stayed like this for what could have been minutes or hours, she couldn’t be bothered to care which but eventually her mind started to wander.

“Goddess, what should I do?” She whispered into the silence.

“Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?” A melodic yet haunting voice responded, startling her out of her musings.

Fleur’s eyes shot open and she immediately jumped out of the pool with a loud splash and a frightened screech. Her entire body trembled as adrenaline coursed through her. Her feathers, hair, and clothes clung uncomfortably to her body and made her feel slightly claustrophobic, which did nothing to help her panicked state. Her heart was thundering and her chest heaving as she gazed wildly around the room for the intruder. She was alone. 

“Wh-Who’s there?” She hated how shaky her voice sounded. 

“You know who I am, for it was you who summoned me.”

“I summoned…?”

“I felt the anguish, doubt and uncertainty in your heart. It called to me and I answered.” 

Fleur’s eyes were so wide that they nearly popped out of her skull as she watched a woman begin to materialize out of the air. It took her a fraction of a second to realize what she was witnessing. She immediately dropped to her knees and lowered her forehead to the ground, arms stretched out in front of her, prostrating before the Goddess. 

A bright light filled the space, making the crystals shine beautifully, reflecting and refracting, casting rainbow patterns across the walls. Even with her eyes trained on the stone floor, Fleur squinted uncomfortably. It was overwhelming to go from near solid darkness to such a bright setting in a matter of seconds. 

The Goddess chuckled softly; it sounded like a bubbling stream. “You need not avert your eyes, young one. Please rise so that we may talk. I have limited time here.” 

Fleur nodded and slowly got to her feet, standing on unsteady legs. Her entire body was shaking, her knees all but knocking together. She couldn’t bring herself to look upon the Goddess, she didn’t feel like she was deserving of that privilege. She hadn't even completed the ritual! She had failed, she was not worthy. She bowed her head and kept her eyes averted, staring at her feet instead. Her shoulders curled instinctively as a sign of respect but also pure intimidation. Even without looking, she could feel a piercing gaze upon her, as if She was looking straight into her soul.

“Look at me, child.”

Fleur whimpered but obeyed without hesitation. She did not want to add ‘Goddess’ to the already long list of those currently annoyed at her. Her eyes quickly took in the deity, careful not to let her gaze linger for too long. 

The Goddess was unlike anything she had ever seen before, beyond her wildest imagination. She looked like a Veela, but so much more. She was radiating raw power and an energy so strong that it was visible, surrounding her like a halo. Everything about Her was otherworldly, even her bare skin seemed to glow. 

She was clad in a white gown that seemed to be made of clouds, shrouding her lithe figure. Like Veela, her body was covered in feathers, but they were a color palette she had never seen: the most vibrant shades of reds, yellows, and oranges. Her wings had the same pattern but the feathers didn’t lay flat like her own, they had texture like a dancing flame. Waves of fiery hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her face, while intimidating to look upon, was surprisingly gentle and kind, her features smooth and soft. 

But Her eyes… They were lidless and unblinking, a rich yellow and burned brighter than the Sun, piercing her with an intensity she had never felt before. Fleur wanted to look away but she dutifully held an unwavering gaze. She did her best to steel her resolve and not crumble like she wanted to, but she felt her nerve slipping the longer she looked upon her deity. 

“Tell me, why have you summoned me, child?”

Fleur swallowed hard, not tearing her eyes away from the Being before her. “I did not mean to and I am humbled that you would grace me with your presence when I have dishonored myself so... I am so lost.” She admitted honestly, her voice barely above a whisper. _What use or benefit was there to lie in a situation like this?_

“Sometimes the most beautiful paths are found in the most unexpected places. And yet sometimes they are already laid out at your feet. You made a choice to take a different route and not to complete your bond tonight. This goes against all teachings and customs of the Veela. Why did you turn your back on your heritage?"

"I... my heart was not in it. I have seen a glimpse of the human world and I could not go through with it with a clear conscience. It would be untrue to you."

The Goddess’s thoughtful humming was like the sounds of tall grasses swishing in the wind. “I have seen into your heart, young one. It is pure but weighed down by doubt and trepidation. I believe that given the chance you will accomplish great things.” 

“I do not seek greatness, I just want to do what is right.”

The Goddess’s gaze narrowed imperceptibly, searching Fleur’s eyes for a few moments, “I believe you. Very well, I will grant your heart’s desire, for only then will you reach your true potential.”

Fleur blinked, completely uncertain of what the Goddess was talking about, but who was she to question the will of a deity? She was not a priestess, she had no understanding of the way or will of the Goddess. Still, she couldn’t help but feel slightly apprehensive about the situation, it all seemed rather abrupt. She hesitated for a moment, quickly weighing out her options. On the one hand, it would be extremely rude to refuse a gift given willingly from the Goddess and might bring Her wrath down on the Coven. On the other hand, she didn’t even know what her own heart’s true desire was! Then again, maybe this was a good thing and would help her figure out what she should do next. She swallowed thickly and found her voice again, “I do not deserve your kindness, but I would be most honored to accept whatever you see fit.”

“You have a good heart, child. Trust yourself. You will know what to do when the time comes. You and the mate you have chosen will tip the scales.” 

“ _My what?!_ ” Fleur practically shrieked, forgetting her place and current company.

Without warning, the Goddess clapped her hands together and the cavern reverberated with the sound of rolling thunder. The clap emitted a shockwave powerful enough to shake the stone walls, causing Fleur to stagger back several steps as she tried to stay upright. Instinctively her hands shot to cover her ears, even though it offered no protection against the deafening sound. 

When She pulled her hands apart, a blinding wave of light shot forth from Her palms, bathing the already bright cavern with a radiant glow.

Fleur squeezed her eyes shut, her only defense against the light, but it was too late. She staggered, her ears ringing and blinded. She could feel a warmth spreading from her heart and radiating outward, filling her completely. It was dull at first but then became more intense with each passing second. It felt familiar, like the energy she felt at the altar, but infinitely more powerful, as it was being channeled into her directly from the source. 

Her body felt like it was burning from the inside out and she fell to her knees, then collapsed onto the cave floor. She was writhing in agony, her wings flapping helplessly as she rolled on the ground. Her skin felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of porcupine quills. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as silent screams ripped from her throat as she gasped for air. Her body felt like it was being split open and she clawed wildly at the ground as if that would bring relief. 

Seconds later her vision went dark as she slumped unconscious against the cold stone floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know it's a Magneto quote. Credit due to X-men.
> 
> Don't forget, Fleurmione Week 2020 is coming! Starts September 3 and is seven days of Fleurmione. If you’re itching to contribute, please be sure to use #FleurmioneWeek2020  
> Details: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/fleurmioneweek


	6. Chapter 6

Fleur’s eyes slowly moved behind closed eyelids as she came to. A pained gasp escaped her dry lips as she greedily sucked air into her lungs, breathing as deeply as her aching body would allow. Her head was pounding and echoes of the Goddess’s thunderous clap still rang in her ears. She reluctantly opened her eyes and blinked a few times as her vision drifted in and out of focus. 

Even in her disoriented state she could tell that was still in the crystal cave. She could feel the hard stone pressed against her cheek and she could make out the hazy blue light from the fungi. The cave had returned to its normal state of darkness and there appeared to be no sign of the Goddess or their encounter. If not for the dull ache in her body, she might have chalked it up to a very vivid dream, but the pain she felt was a very real reminder of the events that had transpired. 

Groaning softly, she tried shifting her body but her limbs felt impossibly heavy and unresponsive. All she could do was lie there on her stomach in an uncomfortable contorted position as she waited for her head to clear and her body to behave. She passively wondered how much time had passed since she lost consciousness, though judging by her stiffness in her muscles and joints, it had been a while. 

Unable to do much else, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember the night but her memory was a little hazy on the details. She remembered the Goddess had come, something about granting her heart’s desire. And her chosen mate? Her brow furrowed deeply at that. She hadn’t chosen a mate. She didn’t even have an intended! So a mate? Impossible. She sighed to herself, trying to interpret what she remembered of the Goddess’s message. She had been frustratingly vague and cryptic and she felt as if she was left with more questions than answers. 

After several long and agonizingly slow minutes she felt slightly better and tried to push herself up off the cave floor, wincing with every movement. She froze, immediately sensing that something was wrong. Her blood ran cold as dread coursed through her veins, her stomach sinking like a stone as she realized what it was that felt so off. Trying not to hyperventilate, she gingerly turned her head to look over her shoulder.

A strangled scream escaped her lips and she immediately looked away, trying not to throw up. All her strength and will faded and she collapsed back onto the ground, her body wracked with uncontrolled sobs, tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe it. Unable to make herself look again, she reached a shaking hand over her shoulder. Her fingers found nothing but bare skin through the open wing flaps of her dress. _They were gone._

For a time the only sounds in the cavern were the echoes of her desperate screams and wails. 

Once she had lost the will and strength to cry, Fleur sat up, feeling wobbly and off balance without the weight of her wings pulling on her. She was shaking as her hands carefully inspected the rest of her body. She found nothing under her dress but a vast expanse of pale skin. She wept openly for her loss as she stared down at her featherless body. 

She didn’t even have the capacity to be surprised by the new addition she found between her legs. Of the changes, at least this one she was prepared for. As a Veela, there was always a chance of developing one depending on one’s chosen mate. _Wait, was she still a Veela? She certainly didn't look like one anymore._

Fleur curled her knees against her chest, her long arms wrapped around herself, and gently rocking back and forth in shock, her body trembling, but not from the cold. Maybe a little from the cold. As she sat there thinking, her initial shock and confusion gave way to waves of anger and frustration. _What did the Goddess do to her?! Why would she do this?_

“Why?!” She called out, her anguished cry echoed through the cavern. 

She was met with silence. This just made her even more frustrated. She wanted answers. Now. She stared at the ceiling screaming angrily, gesturing and flailing her arms around to emphasize her points. After a while her voice started cracking as her curses and pleas became more desperate. She yelled until her throat was raw and then she kept going. “Are you punishing me for not accepting my vows? I thought you were going to help me, not curse me! What am I supposed to do now!?” 

Her only response was the steady dripping of the water trickling down the natural stone fountain.

With a dejected sigh, she accepted her fate and stopped screaming at the walls. Once more she drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She felt numb as she stared blankly at the wall, trying to figure out what to do. _Should she go back to the Coven? Could she go back? She was a human now, or at least she looked like one. Would they accept her? What if they didn’t recognize her?_

The only thing she _did_ know was that she couldn’t stay in the cave any longer. Now that she wasn’t running entirely on shock and adrenaline, she realized that it was really cold and she had begun to shiver violently. She hadn't appreciated how much her plumage protected her from the elements. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes as she tried to distract herself from thinking about her missing feathers.

Fleur tried to stand but immediately stumbled, grabbing the edge of the bathing pool to steady herself. She quietly sobbed and whimpered as she tried to move, her body was still weak and aching painfully, adjusting to the transformation. She staggered forward on unsteady feet, leaning heavily against the wall as she felt her way out of the cave. She didn’t trust herself to let go of the wall for fear of falling but also she felt like she was groping blindly in the dark. She wasn’t sure if it was her addled state of mind, but she felt like her vision wasn’t as clear as it had been before. 

Eventually she managed to make it to the entrance of the crystal cave and blinked in the early morning light. Her muscles were already aching from the adjustments she had to make to her movements and she took a moment to rest, leaning against the smooth stone. 

When she was feeling slightly better, she took a tentative step, stumbling forward as soon as she let go of the cave wall she had been relying upon for support. She whimpered as her knees hit the ground hard. Everything felt so unfamiliar and off balance. She glared at the sky, silently cursing the Goddess for doing this to her. She wouldn’t waste any more words on the spiteful deity that had betrayed and manipulated her. She felt a pang in her chest. Maybe she deserved this. It was her punishment for speaking out. She pushed that thought down, trying to focus on her task at hand.

She crawled across the forest floor to get to a tree so she could stand again. She clutched the trunk, breathing hard as she tried to keep it together and not have another breakdown. She squeezed her eyes shut, resting them. Now that she was in the light she could tell that her vision had been affected and it was incredibly disorienting. Her eyes were straining to accommodate for the adjustment and left her with a nasty headache. 

She took several deep breaths and tried to sense the forest around her. It appeared that her vision wasn’t the only sense that had suffered. Her hearing and sense of smell seemed to have dulled, too. On top of that, and possibly the most disturbing change: she felt an unnerving disconnect to the forest’s energy that had once felt like second nature to her. 

At least the sun felt nice, though it was strange to feel the heat directly on her skin. She held out an arm, trying to expose as much skin as possible to the rays, soaking up the warmth. One very small silver lining.

Feeling physically, emotionally, and mentally drained, she slid down the tree trunk and leaned back against it. Her eyes slipped shut as she succumbed to her exhaustion in seconds. 

Fleur jolted awake when she heard a branch snapping nearby. “Who’s there?” She called out, scrambling to her feet and clutching tightly to the tree. She cautiously peered around the broad trunk, searching for the cause of the disturbance. She knew she was a sitting target, weak and unable to defend herself. Her only hope was that they meant her no harm. 

“Flower?”

Her eyes widened and her heart leapt up into her throat as a familiar figure stepped out from behind a nearby tree.

“Sage! Oh my Goddess, you’re here!” Fleur was elated to see the brown-feathered Veela but didn’t trust herself to move just yet. 

“Of course I am. I went looking for you when you didn’t come back last night. The whole Coven is worried about you. I know you’re upset about the whole Vow thing but I’m sure it will work out in the end.” Sage approached casually, her quarterstaff slung over her shoulder, looking equally relieved to have found her. “I’m sure there’ll be some grumps but we can take 'em! I got your back no matter what, remember?”

“Sage, wait. Don’t come any closer… I… something happened last night, I can’t really explain it…”

A look of confusion flashed across the brunette’s face, but she halted in her tracks, her brow knit deeply together. “What do you mean something happened? Are you hurt? What’s going on, Flower? Why are you hiding behind that tree? You’re acting really strange.”

Fleur took a deep breath and stepped around the tree, falling over in the process. She tried to scramble to her feet but she overcompensated and ended up toppling over with the grace of a newborn fawn, landing hard on her chest and knocking the wind out of herself. Defeated by gravity and lack of coordination, she stayed slouched on the forest floor, panting for breath and peering up at her friend. Desperate tears filled the corners of her eyes. “Please… help me…”

Sage froze, staring at the blonde kneeling before her. Her mouth hung open as she tried to process the scene before her.

Fleur sat up and clutched her arms tightly around her body as if that would help hold herself together and not fall apart again. “I’m still me, I swear… Please talk to me. Please… Sage.” Hearing her name snapped Sage out of her shock.

“What evil is this?” The brunette recoiled, taking a step back and gripping her quarterstaff defensively in front of her body. She looked around warily as if worried she would meet the same fate by association. “Is this a human trick? Some sort of Dark magic?”

“No… I-”

“I told you the humans were dangerous… that you’d get caught one day. And now look at you! Your feathers. Your _wings!_ They stole them from you! I’m going to make them pay for what they’ve done!” Sage spat, her grip tightening on her quarterstaff. “Was it _her_? That girl? Did she lure you in like a trap?”

“No! It wasn’t humans! The Goddess came to me last night. She did this! You have to believe me!” Fleur pleaded, panic rising in her blood. 

“You expect me to believe that the Goddess did this to you? Turned you into… into one of _them?_ Why?! They’re the enemy! The bringers of death and destruction!” Sage looked conflicted, torn between her fear, disbelief, and wanting to help her friend. “No, I don’t believe it. I can’t! You… you’re just confused, Flower, your mind isn’t working properly. Whatever spell you’re under… we can fix it.” 

“It really was Her! She said She was granting my heart’s desire…” Fleur immediately regretted her choice of words as soon as they left her mouth.

“Your heart’s desire?!” The brunette screeched, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“I didn’t mean… wait, you misunderstand…”

“No, I think I understand perfectly… you wanted to be with them so much you made some deal and threw your lot in with _them_ . You chose _them!_ ” Sage spat furiously, “You would choose that _girl!?_ Over your family? The _Coven_ ?!” … _Over me._

Fleur cowered, the weight of the unspoken betrayal hurt more than the others. She knew Sage’s heart was breaking and there wasn’t anything she could say to make it right. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want-”

“Save it, I can’t even listen to you. You made your choice.” Sage interrupted, her words dripping with hurt and venom. She pulled a pouch off of her waist belt and tossed it at her. “There… That should last you long enough to get out of here.” She was visibly shaking with rage, turning on her heel and stalking away.

Fleur didn’t look at the bag of food, it felt like a parting mercy before she was thrown out to fend for herself. “Wait! Sage! Please come back! I don’t know what to do! You can’t just leave me here!”

“Why not? You turned your back on us and the Goddess. You don’t belong here anymore. Why don’t you get your precious human to help you.” 

“What are you going to tell the others?”

“The truth. That you’re the first casualty of this war.” Without a second look back, Sage turned and took off in a sprint, taking to the sky as soon as she could. 

Fleur stared after her friend, unable to chase her, unable to fly. She didn’t realize she had started crying again. She had just lost everything, not just her wings and feathers. She was cut off from her Coven, her family and friends, the Forest, and the Goddess - though arguably she could do without that last one. She sat there and wept even though she had run out of tears long ago. 

She gasped as a tiny flicker of hope sparked in her chest. No. She hadn't lost everything, not yet at least. She had one last option. She had to get to Hermione. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione was sitting at the campsite, staring blankly at a drawing of Fleur, her fingers tracing the outline of her mighty wings spread behind her as she took flight. Her parents had invited her for another day hike but she just wasn’t feeling up to it. She was tired and felt rather miserable about things. She had waited until midnight the night before for Fleur to show up, but the blonde never came. She wondered if that’s why she had kissed her out of the blue the other night. A goodbye. Her heart clenched at the thought.

“Her-mih-nee…” 

Her head snapped up when she thought she heard her name on the wind. _‘Fleur?’_ Sitting up in her chair, she listened intently, eyes scanning the edge of the forest. She sat there for a minute or so but she didn’t hear it again. Feeling a pang of disappointment, she sighed and sat back in her chair, grumbling to herself. “Great, now you’re imagining her voice. Maybe it is time to check yourself into an institution, Granger. You’re definitely losing it.”

“Her-mih-nee…” 

_Nope, definitely heard it that time._ She would never forget Fleur’s voice and sounded like she was in trouble. Hermione was on her feet in seconds, running through the undergrowth, her heart pounding so hard in her chest that it hurt. She checked their meeting spot first, but it was empty.

“Fleur!? Fleur where are you?” She called out, spinning in circles looking wildly around for any sign of the blonde.

“Her-mih-nee…” Fleur replied, louder this time.

Hermione was hurtling in the direction of Fleur’s voice, calling out and listening for a reply like a game of Marco Polo she used to play as a child. She was running blindly, heading deeper into the forest. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours. Still she kept moving, running with her hands in front of her as she pushed thick bushes and branches aside, not caring about the sharp thorns that scratched her skin or tugged at her hair.

She burst through a bush into a small clearing and nearly collapsed to her knees at the sight before her.

Fleur was laying on the ground, curled in a ball on her side. Her golden hair was tangled, her body covered in cuts, welts, and bruises, and her white dress shredded and stained. And she was looking distinctly… human. While still beautiful, she was lacking the ethereal energy she had before, not to mention her wings and feathers were gone. She looked like an angel that had fallen from grace.

Hermione didn’t think, she hurried over to the blonde woman and knelt beside her, wrapping her arms around her protectively. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Her-mih-nee…” she replied weakly, before pointing to herself, “Flerr.”

“Fleur.” Hermione nodded, it was gut wrenching to think that Fleur was worried that she wouldn’t recognize her. She reached out and stroked Fleur’s cheekbone. The blonde woman closed her eyes and purred softly (which would have been adorable in any other situation). It was heartbreaking, she looked so small and vulnerable. 

Slender fingers threaded themselves into the fabric of her red and black flannel shirt, clinging desperately to her. The other hand reached up to touch her face, mirroring her own hand’s actions. 

“Shit, you’re freezing!” Hermione gasped when she felt the light touch on her face. She let go and began to pull away so she could take off her overshirt but Fleur tightened her grip. Her blue eyes shot open wide, silently pleading ‘ _Don’t leave me.’_ It looked as if she was terrified that she was being left behind, abandoned. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I just want to get you warmed up.” Hermione explained in a hushed tone, trying to be as reassuring as possible. She gently held one of Fleur’s hands, squeezing it lightly, while the other worked on unbuttoning the shirt and wriggling out of the long sleeve flannel. 

Once she managed to get out of her shirt, she draped it over Fleur like a blanket. She could feel Fleur shivering and sobbing and she once again wrapped her arms around her. If it was this much of a shock for her, she couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on inside Fleur’s mind. _What had happened to her?_

Her blood boiled at the thought of someone hurting Fleur. Even though they were strangers to one another, she felt protective of her. She gently rocked her body and hummed softly, cradling the blonde in her arms.

The pair sat that way for a while, although time didn’t matter to her at this point. All Hermione wanted to do was soothe the frightened woman, who had fallen asleep, practically curled up in her lap. She took a moment to do a quick assessment of Fleur’s condition. Aside from surface injuries, nothing looked too serious, so that was one less thing to worry about. Maybe a bit dehydrated and probably hungry, but that was an easy fix once they got back to camp.

But there was the matter of ‘what now?’ How would she explain the appearance of a mysterious blonde woman that she found in the woods to her parents? Could she maybe try to hide her in her tent or her car? She was thanking her lucky stars that she had decided to drive separately this summer, that made things slightly easier. But not by much. Even if she hid Fleur from her parents, she couldn’t stay here in the woods with her. They were scheduled to leave the next day. She had to get home. She had a life and university started in a couple of months. 

Her mind spun wildly as she tried to think about her next steps. Should she try to bring Fleur with her? To where? To London? How would she know if Fleur wanted to come with her? If the blonde came along, she would have to smuggle her in, since she doubted Fleur had a passport or visa. Her brain was at odds with itself, having a heated internal debate between her logical and emotional sides.

_Great, and now I'm considering human smuggling._

But you can't just leave her here! Look what had happened to her in just a day!

_But would she even want to go? The forest is her home, right?_

Maybe but clearly something happened and she appears to be in no state to look after herself if you leave her.

Hermione was still wrapped up in her thoughts when she felt Fleur stir awake. Her breath caught in her lungs as piercing blue eyes opened, blinking rapidly in a moment of confusion but they soon fixated upon her face. The look was so pure and innocent that it melted her heart. “Her-mih-nee.” 

“I’m here, Fleur. But we need to get back to camp. I can’t help you here.” She carefully shuffled their positions so she could get to her feet, gently pulling the blonde up with her. She took a small step and Fleur leaned heavily against her, unsteady. Of course she would be unstable, her whole center of gravity is off! Whatever happened must have been fairly recent. She rolled her eyes at herself, the voice of her rational brain admonishing her. _Well obviously within the last 36 hours, you idiot, since the last time she saw her she had wings. But even more recent than that if she's walking like this._

“That’s alright, you can hold onto me. I won’t let you fall.” Hermione kept talking, clutching Fleur about the shoulders. She was surprised to note that despite her slender appearance, Fleur was actually rather solid. The toned muscles were an indicator that she lived a very active lifestyle. She filed that away for later. It wasn’t a time for her to get distracted by her curiosity. Right now they needed to move.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sage didn’t return to the Village after her fight with Flower. She had flown around to cool off before she settled in the treetops to think, working through everything that had just happened. She felt guilty about the things that she had said to Flower and for abandoning her friend at a time of need, but she felt so hurt, her friend's words echoed in her mind. Painful reminders.

“Flower’s desire is to be a human… Humans are bad… But Flower isn’t bad! Shit. This is so messed up. Did I do the right thing?” Tears were leaking out of the corners of her pale blue eyes as she argued aloud. Her stomach was nauseous and her heart ached as she thought, haunted by the memories of Flower kneeling so helplessly in front of her. “Flower chose _her…_ she doesn’t want you… but… she’s still your friend. But she made her choice… and I left her food… I shouldn’t have left her at all. What were you thinking, you fool? She wouldn’t have left you alone if the tables were turned…” 

With a heavy sigh, she flew out of the tree and returned to the crystal cave, hoping to apologize and be the friend Flower needed. She prayed that Flower was okay.

Sage’s heart sank when she returned and found that the blonde had moved on. She wasn’t surprised, she had been pretty harsh and made her opinions known. “Curse it… I need to fix this,” she huffed and took off following the trail. At least it was easy tracking. Flower had cut a clear path in her stumble through the underbrush.

She walked for an hour or so, mildly surprised at the distance her friend had managed to cover in her state. _Goddess, her state… how could I leave her when she was scared and hurt!?_ She was internally kicking herself when she heard a voice in the distance. It was distinctly human.

**“Fleur!? Fleur where are you?”**

Instinctively she climbed a tree and hid up in the canopy, her dark plumage would help her blend into the shadows. She crouched and watched. Her sharp eyes saw a flash of red and a brown haired human stepped into view. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized her; it was the woman from the campsite. _Her._ Sage felt her blood start to boil, her temper flaring dangerously.

**“Her-mih-nee…”**

Sage’s blood ran cold, she recognized the voice that responded but not the sounds it was making. _Had Flower been more involved with the humans than she had let on?_ _Had she been lying after all this time?_ She had faithfully guarded the blonde’s secret for ten years! She knew that Flower watched them each summer but the thought that she would actually go so far to interact with them was preposterous. But clearly she had, how else would she learn to speak like a human? She gripped her staff, grinding her teeth. _She really had betrayed them…_

She crept through the maze of tree limbs, staying out of sight but watching the brunette as she ran through the bushes, trampling everything without care. It made her want to hiss but she kept herself in check. She couldn’t give away her position. She would collect information first and strike only if necessary.

Her heart shattered when she saw Fleur lying on the ground but instantly turned cold when she saw the woman cradling her. 

**“It’s okay, I’m here.”**

**“Her-mih-nee…”** Flower reached toward the woman, then gestured to herself **“Flerr.”**

**“Fleur.”**

_She gave her a name?!_ Sage was seeing red, seething on her branch. The brunette was chattering gibberish at her, but Fleur was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered before she fell asleep tucked against the human. Sage couldn’t take it, but she couldn’t look away. They were holding one another like… like mates. She sat rooted to her spot, lurking high in the treetops. Waiting. 

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously as the two women on the ground eventually staggered to their feet and slowly walked away. Sage was frozen in place, hot angry tears streaming down her cheeks. She really did choose her. ‘ _I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought. She betrayed us all. Maybe she was more like them than anyone realized,’_ Sage thought bitterly, scoffing at being played for a fool. ‘ _At least I know one thing: humans can’t be trusted. Flower included.’_


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you sure you’ll be okay staying alone another week, darling? You know your father and I can stay with you if you want.”

“Yes, it’s fine, Mum. I really appreciate the offer but it’s not necessary… You two have a schedule to keep and I just want some alone time to reflect before University, you know? I really don’t want to interrupt your plans. I’ll be fine, I promise. There’s a store and laundromat not far from here and I can charge my mobile battery with the car.” 

Hermione’s heart was thundering in her chest while she outright lied to her mother’s face, something she had never done before. She did her best to keep her expression calm and neutral, but internally she was falling apart; silently praying to whatever spiritual power that might be listening to help her through this and convince the older brunette. 

Despite her best efforts, she felt her nerve starting to crack the longer her mother watched her. Hermione’s hands were clenched into tight fists behind her back, nails leaving crescent shaped indentations in her palms. The pain helped keep her focused on selling her ruse, reminding her to breathe and to not fidget under her mother’s indiscernible gaze. 

Emily Granger broke her gaze after a painfully long pause and sighed. She knew that Hermione was hiding something but she chose not to push it. She had always trusted her daughter and she wasn’t about to stop now. She also had to remind herself that her little girl was now a young woman, an adult capable of making her own decisions. She believed that Hermione would make the right choice, whatever it was, as her daughter had never given reason to doubt her before. Still, it hurt to think that Hermione didn’t trust her enough to share whatever was on her mind. They were a very open family that had never held secrets from one another. Perhaps she was just nervous about living alone and didn’t want to worry them, she reasoned to herself. 

“Whatever you think is best, dear. You know what you need. I hope you know that your father and I support you and will always be here for you.”

“I know, mum, thank you. It’s just something I need to take care of on my own.” Hermione offered weakly. She knew she was grasping at straws but she had come up with no better explanation in the few hours that had elapsed since she found Fleur in the woods. 

Emily smiled knowingly, satisfied with her daughter’s response, thinking that she had figured out the root of Hermione’s deception. She reflected on when she was Hermione’s age and was preparing to leave the house for the first time. She, too, had been eager to prove that she was capable of looking after herself and didn’t want her parents to worry. _‘Like mother, like daughter,’_ she chuckled inwardly, feeling more at ease, and eager to give advice and encouragement. 

“I know it’s a bit scary to leave the nest for the first time but I know that you’ll be fine. You’ve always been fiercely independent, driven, and self-sufficient, even as a young girl. I’m so proud of you. We both are.” Emily nodded towards the red tent where loud snores could be heard from within. 

Henry had fallen asleep shortly after dinner, which was particularly convenient as Hermione had wanted to talk to her mom privately about her decision to stay an extra week. She knew that she had a better chance of convincing her than her dad; her mother had always let her be more independent whereas her father still thought of her as his little girl still and likely would have pushed to stay with her.

Hermione couldn’t believe her luck. Her mum was actually rolling with it and had given her a perfect excuse that hadn’t even crossed her mind. She held back her sigh of relief, hugged her mother, and enjoyed the comfort of the embrace in silence. Her eyes slipped shut when she felt fingers stroking her curly brown hair. It reminded her of her childhood when her mum would carefully brush out her unruly curls in an attempt to tame them. Ever since then, she loved having her hair played with and found the gesture rather soothing. 

After a while Emily stepped back, holding Hermione at arm’s length, and cupping her chin between her hands to properly look her in the eye. “I still can’t believe you’re all grown up. It feels like yesterday I was chasing you down the hallways in naught but your nappy when you refused bath time.”

Hermione blushed, her mum knew exactly how to embarrass her. “Thanks, mum. I really appreciate you letting me do this. You’re right, I’ll be fine. I love you both.”

“Anything for you, dove. Your father and I will make arrangements for you to stay on our way out tomorrow. You should be fine, I don’t remember seeing anything being booked after us. You’re absolutely certain you are okay with us leaving you in France?”

“I’ve got it. I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in London next week to see you off before you leave for Australia.” Hermione threw her arms around her mother for another hug. She gave her a quick kiss goodnight and bustled around the campsite for a few minutes as her mother got ready for bed. Once the coast was clear, she hurried to her tent, eager to turn in for the night. The weight of the day’s events was wearing heavily on her and she desperately needed to sleep.

Once inside, Hermione carefully felt around with her hands, using her mobile phone screen to give off a weak light to guide her movements. She knew that turning on her torch would reveal the silhouette of the second person hidden in her tent, and so was forced to grope blindly in the near perfect darkness. Her hand settled on the lump in the sleeping bag. She shifted the phone slightly to verify what she had found. 

“Fleur?” She whispered, voice barely audible. “It’s me… Hermione.”

“Her-mih-nee?” Fleur’s voice was soft and muffled by the fabric. The sleeping bag shuffled and unzipped slightly to reveal anxious blue eyes peering up at her. “Flerr hide.”

“Yes, you did, Fleur. You hid very well.” She smiled softly, relieved to see that the blonde hadn’t wandered off. They had spent most of the afternoon practicing hiding, staying put, and coming when summoned, with lots of hand gestures and demonstrating on Hermione’s part. Fortunately, Fleur was exceptionally bright and seemed to pick up on everything very quickly, including shaky pronunciations of “hide,” “stay,” and “come.” 

After just a few tries, all Hermione had to say was “Fleur, hide” and Fleur would dive into the sleeping bag, curl herself into a ball, and lie very still as she waited for Hermione to tell her the coast was clear. When Hermione’s parents returned from their hike, she had immediately tucked herself away in the safety of the tent, completely unprompted. It seemed that her trust of humans extended to Hermione and Hermione alone.

She had been pleasantly surprised to see how well Fleur had taken to the sleeping bag when they had practiced hiding. She had been nervous to introduce the forest dweller to ‘human things,’ not sure how she would react to the foreign objects. Some things were met with a sense of familiarity or curiosity, like the plates (though she seemed intrigued by the metal) and her sleeping bag. Other items, the portable radio in particular, were met with aggravated hisses and wary looks. 

Not wanting to disturb the other woman, Hermione grabbed her bag of clothes to make herself a makeshift pillow, and pulled out some of her warm outer layers to use as blankets. She could feel arctic eyes boring into her, watching her every move as she got ready for bed. It made her feel self conscious being observed like this, but she had to remind herself that this was likely the first time Fleur had ever interacted with a human before and she was probably just curious.

Fleur seemed to visibly relax once she realized that the brunette was not going to leave her, her eyelids drooping heavily as she fought off sleep.

“It’s okay. Sleep, Fleur.” Hermione mumbled quietly, making exaggerated snoring noises. “Sleep.”

Fleur just nodded and zipped herself back up in her cocoon, only the top of her blonde head left visible.

With a soft groan, Hermione laid down on the firm ground next to Fleur and got herself situated, her arms folded under her improvised pillow for better neck support. Despite her exhaustion, her head was still spinning: thoughts bouncing around like a pinball machine as she lay there staring at the ceiling of the tent. There was so much she wanted to say to Fleur, so many questions left unasked. She was still trying to figure out how they would communicate better. Perhaps add drawing into the mix? That had worked before. Showing her photos would be so much easier but Fleur seemed wary of her mobile. They had made some progress with mimicking and pantomiming actions that afternoon, but it was a slow process and time was not on their side. She couldn’t stay here forever. She had to get back to London, and soon. She needed to ask Fleur if she wanted to stay here or come with her but she wasn’t sure how she could explain her necessity to leave. 

This brought up another complicated puzzle piece for her to figure out. If the blonde did join her, how on earth was she going to get her into England? Stuff her in the boot of her car and hope for the best? She remembered that in the past the border-control hadn’t been particularly thorough when she and her parents returned from their annual camping trip, so that might work. But was she willing to risk it? Risk her future for some stranger? The legal consequences would be severe if she got caught. She determined that she had a few days to decide at least. For now she knew that she had to help Fleur. 

Fleur. A mystery. An enigma. Who was she really? Then there were the many unsolved mysteries centered around Fleur herself. What had happened to her that had changed so drastically overnight? Where was her family and were they worried about her? Was she doing the right thing by considering taking her back to London with her?

She wanted to see the best in people and knew that Fleur needed help, she still had her reservations about the situation. She knew practically nothing about the beautiful woman but for some reason she felt oddly at ease around her - that in itself was a little jarring. Then again, if Fleur had meant her harm, she had plenty of opportunities already when they were meeting in the woods or any time in the past few years, really. No. She truly believed that Fleur was just a young woman in dire need of assistance and she was determined to help however she could.

Thoughts continued to swirl around her active mind as her eyelids slipped shut; sleep had started to take hold.

“Her-mih-nee?” 

Hermione’s eyes immediately shot open when she heard the timid voice. She turned in the direction of the blonde, and was met with a concerned expression: head tilted and eyebrows raised slightly, eyes watching her expectantly. A pale arm snaked its way out from inside the sleeping bag, the sound of it being unzipped filled the silence. Hermione froze, unsure of what Fleur was doing as slender fingers gripped her wrist, pulling her closer.

“Her-mih-nee?” Fleur repeated. Her voice was quiet and uncertain as she urged the brunette onto the thick sleeping pad and draped the now fully unzipped sleeping bag over them both like a blanket.

Her heart jolted hard in her chest when she realized what Fleur was trying to do. The amount of trust Fleur was displaying broke her heart - that her situation was so desperate that she would trust a complete stranger like this. At that moment, all of her previous reservations went flying out the proverbial window. This was a small thing she could do for her to help, so she obliged the unspoken request to cuddle. 

Hermione lay perfectly still on the mat as the blonde settled in with her head resting on her shoulder and arm draped across her waist. The height difference was almost comical to her but somehow Fleur managed to curl herself in a way that worked and was remarkably comfortable, which surprised her. She normally wasn’t a particularly cuddly or touchy person but found that she didn’t mind with Fleur. She rationalized that Fleur was likely scared and the innocent touches indicated a need for comfort rather than a desire for anything untoward. Despite their close proximity, there was nothing overtly sexual or suggestive about the embrace. 

Unfortunately, _her_ mind was having other ideas, which she immediately tried to quash. In spite of their current predicament, she knew she had developed a bit of a crush (or at least an undeniable sense of attraction) on the mysterious woman that left her with more questions than answers. To have her so close was proving a bit more challenging than she had anticipated. She tried not to focus on the swell of Fleur’s breasts and how good it felt to have them pressed against her side as she clung to her. Still, she kept herself in check; it felt like a betrayal of Fleur’s trust to let her mind wander to such immodest thoughts. Her friend (or whatever they were to one another) didn’t need her having inappropriate thoughts when she was in such a vulnerable state. Besides, she wasn’t sure if Fleur even swung that way. Sure, they had kissed once, but that didn’t mean that Fleur was interested in her like that. Maybe it was a cultural thing? Regardless, this was definitely not the time nor place to figure that out. 

Aside from her own awkwardness and internal struggle to put a lid on her overimaginitive mind, it actually felt nice to lie close to someone else like this. She never had close girl friends as a child and hadn’t had much luck in the dating department, albeit mostly from lack of interest and effort on her part. She was far too focused on her schooling to lead a very active social life, and so this was very new to her, even if it was just platonic cuddling. The weight of Fleur’s head on her shoulder, the rhythmic beating of her heart, and the steady breaths on her neck were strangely soothing to her, and she found herself enjoying it more and more with each passing second. 

She felt Fleur shiver against her, her lithe frame wracked by quiet sobs. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like being in Fleur’s shoes and she wanted to provide comfort without moving or shifting their position, which severely limited her options. She remembered how much she enjoyed having her hair played with when she was upset, and she tentatively reached over and stroked the long, platinum locks, hoping that Fleur would find it comforting as well. When she felt the blonde woman still slightly and lean into the touch, she kept up her gentle ministrations. After a while the shaking stopped and Fleur’s breathing started to even out and deepen; her own eyes feeling impossibly heavy as she finally allowed herself to succumb to her exhaustion.

“I’m here… sleep, Fleur.” 

“Sleep, Her-mih-nee…” came a muffled reply. 

Both women were asleep in minutes, tucked together like two pieces of an unlikely puzzle.

The next morning, Emily and Henry Granger packed up their bit of camp, leaving Hermione with the necessary camping gear for the rest of her stay. They departed after many teary goodbyes, leaving her with some extra spending money to get her through the week and back to London. 

Hermione waved as her parents’ rental drove off, putting on a brave face until they turned the corner. Once they were out of sight she released the breath she had been holding all morning and ran to her tent, unzipping it and sticking her head in.

“Fleur, come out. It’s okay.”

As soon as she was cleared to leave the tent, Fleur rushed out and made a dash for the woods. Hermione panicked and followed her, only to flush brighter than a tomato when she realized the blonde was taking care of her morning business. She quickly returned to camp to give her privacy. 

Hermione bustled about the small camp to distract herself: setting the kettle on the portable stove for tea and breakfast while she tried to decide what to do with the day. She wanted to continue trying to communicate with Fleur, obviously, but she wanted to make the best use of their limited time. And there were chores that she needed to see to, namely going into town to get supplies and do laundry. And shower. A shower _had_ to happen today. She might be camping, but Hermione Granger was nothing if not a stickler for hygiene. Fortunately the campsite had facilities available for the campers who, like her, didn’t want to ‘rough it’ too much.

She looked up from mixing hot water with packs of dried oatmeal into bowls when she heard Fleur return to camp. “Bugger, I need to get her new clothes, too,” she mumbled to herself as she took in the sad state of the other girl’s dress. 

“Hello, Fleur,” Hermione waved cheerfully in greeting, trying to introduce Fleur to as many aspects of ‘human culture’ to help acclimate her to the society she was soon to find herself in, should she choose to accompany her to London. Based on what little she knew of Fleur, her understanding of humans was limited to their few brief encounters, so Fleur had a lot to learn and only six days to do it. 

Fleur tilted her head and shook her hand awkwardly, imitating the wave. “Heh-lo?”

Hermione nodded and repeated the gesture and word slowly, which the blonde woman mimicked, still looking a little confused. 

_‘Good enough,’_ Hermione thought to herself as she finished with preparing breakfast. She grabbed the bowls and sat down on the picnic table, patting the space next to her. “Come, Fleur. I made breakfast for us.” 

Breakfast was an interesting affair to say the least. It was clear that Fleur had never had oatmeal before. She spent more time inspecting her spoon or watching Hermione than actually eating, quietly muttered to herself between bites. Each time she took a bite she made a small face and gave Hermione a confused look as if to ask ‘you actually eat this?’ but otherwise she completed her meal without complaint. 

Hermione did her best not to laugh at the way Fleur was holding her spoon as she wondered what Fleur’s usual diet was so that she could try to plan accordingly for her shopping trip. She guessed that it would be very natural; somehow it seemed highly unlikely that Fleur’s culture had access to fast food and supermarkets. She thought immediately of the Paleo diet trend from a few years prior, lots of vegetables and meats with not a lot of processed products or additives. _‘Oh this is going to be expensive, but at least it’s healthy,_ ’ she thought as she cleared the morning dishes. 

Once breakfast was complete, Hermione prepared for the next hurdle. Shower time. She wanted to go into town later and she would be damned if she looked like a mess that had just spent a week camping. She reasoned that it would be better to draw as little attention to themselves as possible, and therefore, she would be doing everything she could to help them blend in. The thought of bringing Fleur into town made her more than a little nervous. She had no idea what the blonde would do but she didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone at the campsite, either.

Hermione headed to her tent, pulling out two sets of the cleanest clothes she had with her, including the pair of stretchy athletic shorts she usually slept in to lend to Fleur. Jeans would not be an option for the taller woman, who, by rough estimate, was at least four inches taller than she. Clothes in hand, she grabbed her towel and shower caddy, and returned to her companion. 

She couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out when she saw Fleur rooting around in the food chest. She was squatting down with her knees tucked up against her chest, randomly grabbing packs of dried goods and inspecting them before putting them back. Thankfully she wasn’t opening anything… yet. 

“Fleur, would you like to come with me or stay here?”

Pale blue eyes snapped up, eyeing the small container of toiletries in her hands. “Flerr come stay?” She was able to pick out the two commands she had learned but gave no indication as to which she would prefer. 

Hermione sighed. How on earth was she going to determine if Fleur was just following her lead or if she actually wanted to do something? Until she figured that out she decided that she was just going to have to drag her along without asking and hope for the best. 

“Fleur, come with Hermione.” She held her hand out and the inquisitive woman nodded in understanding. Fleur dropped the shiny bag of pretzels and stood up, bracing herself on the picnic table. Once upright, she casually slipped their hands together. 

“Flerr come with Her-mih-nee!” She chirped proudly, doing a decent version of ‘come’ and ‘with.’ Hermione was impressed by how quickly Fleur was starting to pick up English. Even though she still struggled with pronunciation, moved her mouth in exaggerated motions, and spoke in choppy, breathy spurts, it was much more than she was expecting. It was definitely leaps and bounds ahead of where she was in speaking Fleur’s native tongue, at least, so she had no room to judge. Not like she would anyway.

Hermione led the way to the small shower building, talking slowly and pointing out various things along the way, in an attempt to try and build up Fleur’s vocabulary. She rambled off various facts about the forest, trying to fill the awkward silence even though she knew Fleur didn’t understand a word she was saying.

It was slow going; Fleur still relied heavily on her for assistance with her mobility. She wondered how long it would take her to become steady on her own two feet. But until then she would dutifully assist in any way she could, even if that meant being a human crutch for a while.

For her part, Fleur grew increasingly skittish as she ventured further away from the safety of the forest, gripping Hermione’s hand tighter and tighter with each step. She seemed incredibly nervous and distrustful of the log and stone building that came into view, even flat out refusing to approach it at first. 

_‘Was this the first time she had seen a building?’_ Hermione wondered passively as she watched the blonde’s reaction.

In the end, Fleur’s trust of Hermione won out and she cautiously entered, crouching slightly and looking like she was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice; her grip now like a vice. Still, Hermione couldn’t help but be slightly awestruck by Fleur’s courage, even as she felt her fingers starting to tingle as blood flow was restricted by the firm grip.

“It’s okay, Fleur,” she murmured gentle encouragement, stroking the back of her hand with her thumb in small circles as she held the door open for Fleur to look around.

The room was simple, rustic. There was a row of shower stalls on one side of the room and toilets on the other along with a couple of sinks. Thankfully there was no one else using the facilities.

“So, uh, these are showers.” Hermione gestured, repeating the word several times. She immediately saw the flaw in her plan when she was met with a blank stare. “And of course you don’t know what a shower is…” she sighed, realizing what she had to do. “You have _got_ to be bloody kidding me.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the delay on this chapter. Fleurmione Week was awesome but it also kicked my ass, lol. Just needed a little time to recharge and get back into the mindset of this story.  
> Also, I might be taking a little longer between updates moving forward, life is kicking back into gear and as much as I would love to write 24/7, that's just not in the cards.

Hermione had never felt more awkward in her entire life. The prospect of showing Fleur how to shower was _not_ something that had crossed her mind when she was considering their plans for the day. So she did what she always did when she got nervous. In true Hermione Granger fashion, she started babbling and spouting nonsense about anything and everything in an attempt to avoid the inevitable.

“Right then. So, showers. Well, we use them to clean ourselves, you see. You know, with soap and shampoo. Bugger, actually, you probably don’t know what shampoo is… or soap for that matter...” She grabbed the bottle from the caddy and quickly pantomimed washing her hair before handing it over for Fleur to see. 

Fleur reached out and took the bottle of vanilla scented gel. She chittered quietly to herself as she inspected it curiously; running her fingertips over the smooth plastic bottle before raising it to her nose. Her brow furrowed at the unfamiliar smell, but she didn’t appear to be displeased by it when she handed it back to the brunette. She stood there, watching Hermione expectantly with an intense gaze as the British woman continued her rambling.

“It’s actually a marvel of engineering that makes this all possible. The water is stored in a hot water heater and when you turn the knobs it travels through a series of pipes in the ground and walls and then it comes out through the showerhead… God, why am I even telling you all this?” Hermione had been gesticulating quickly as she explained the mechanics of indoor plumbing, which only led to an even more confused stare from Fleur, her head tilted to the side. She released a defeated sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit. This isn’t helping at all, is it? I guess I’m just going to have to show you.”

Hermione led the way to the end stall; each step felt like walking through wet cement as she tried in vain to calm her nerves. It had the largest space available and a shelf built into the wall which would make the task somewhat easier but no less awkward. She set the spare clothes down on a small bench outside the stall and hung up the towel, simultaneously toeing off her sneakers and socks. Placing the caddy on the shelf, she stepped fully clothed into the tile-lined cubicle and pulled on the knob to start the flow.

Fleur’s eyes shot wide as the pipes rattled to life. In a surprising display of agility, she leapt back several feet and pressed herself firmly against the wall; agitatedly chattering in rapid… whatever language she spoke. Her blue eyes darted anxiously between Hermione and the water coming out of the showerhead, chest heaving as she took shallow, nervous breaths. Her muscles were tense as if she were considering bolting at any moment.

Hermione held her hand out “It’s fine, Fleur. It won’t hurt you.” She stepped into the pressurized spray, trying to ignore the uncomfortable cling of her wet clothes as she tried to coax the other woman to join her.

Fleur watched her for several moments before she unpeeled herself from the wall. She took a tentative step forward, swaying slightly without having Hermione there to help support her movements.

“That’s good, Fleur. Come. It’s okay.” Hermione encouraged softly, holding her hand out to the reluctant woman, who eventually crossed the short distance and hesitantly slid their palms together.

All of Fleur’s previous wariness and apprehension melted away as soon as she was standing in the steady stream. Her eyes swam with excitement and wonder as she cupped her hands and watched them fill with warm water. Fleur repeated this action several times, though Hermione wasn’t sure if it was the fact that it was running water or hot water that filled Fleur with such awe. Maybe both. She smiled inwardly when she heard Fleur speaking, this time in a more relaxed tone. Even though she had heard Fleur talking to herself many times, she was still amazed by the beautiful language that reminded her of birdsong. 

She was even more surprised when Fleur started to run her fingers through her hair like she had previously demonstrated. If Fleur was used to bathing like this, that certainly would make her life much easier. There was only one problem.

“So… usually we don’t shower in our clothes.” Judging by the heat rising in her cheeks, Hermione knew her face was beet red. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she peeled her wet shirt off, modestly turning away from Fleur. While she couldn’t see the blonde’s reaction, she did hear a surprised, sharp intake of breath. Still facing away she pulled off her jeans, or attempted to. The water made them cling to her body like a second skin and she started to lose her footing. Strong hands gripping her shoulders kept her from falling over completely. 

Hermione dared to look over her shoulder and was met with a very concerned look from Fleur. She smiled awkwardly. What else was there to do when you were standing in the shower with your crush in nothing but your underwear and your pants around your thighs? 

“Uh, thank you.” She stammered, finishing the task of removing her soggy pants. Mercifully, Fleur’s hands stayed on her shoulders, keeping her steady. Her undergarments were the last things to join the pile of wet clothes on the floor. Even with her back turned, her hands instinctively went to cover as much of her body as possible. With a deep breath she steeled her nerves and turned around. 

To her credit, Fleur was keeping her eyes fixed on Hermione’s, head cocked slightly to the side. She simply nodded and finally let go of her grasp on the brunette, satisfied that the danger of falling had passed. 

Trying to focus on the task at hand rather than her mortification, Hermione gestured to Fleur’s dress, doing her best not to look. The white fabric was fully saturated with water and basically sheer at this point. To make matters worse, it was clear Fleur wasn’t wearing a bra and Hermione could easily make out the gentle swell of her breasts. _‘Fuck, don’t think about it, don’t think about it!’_

Fleur quickly disrobed, apparently unconcerned about her modesty, and tossed her dress onto the pile of wet clothes. 

While Fleur was readying herself, Hermione reached into the shower caddy and grabbed the shampoo, squeezing a dollop into her palm. She was eager to get through this as quickly as possible and wanted to minimize the downtime. Plus having something to do with her hands kept her mind from wandering.

“Right, so this is shampoo, uh, we use it in our hair.” She lifted her hands to her wet curls and started massaging the gel in, forming a thick lather before quickly rinsing it out. When she opened her eyes again, Fleur was staring at her slack-jawed and her eyes dark with… something. Hermione wasn’t sure but it made her shiver and she felt a heat build in her chest. “So that’s how that works. Do you want to try?” Hermione kept her eyes firmly fixed on Fleur's to prevent them from meandering southward. 

After a few confused head tilts, Fleur held her hands out and Hermione squeezed some shampoo into the pale palms. 

“Right, so you just rub it in.” She pantomimed washing her hair again. She had to stifle a laugh when Fleur simply patted her head and the pearlescent gel started to trickle down the sheets of wet hair.

“Not quite. Here, I’ll help you.” Hermione’s drive to help her friend outweighed her previous embarrassment. She brought her hands up to Fleur’s head, and her nimble fingers started working in the shampoo. Even though she could have reached (with some stretching), she wanted to be sure to leave plenty of space between their bodies and so she stood up on her tiptoes; the added height allowed her to stand further back and keep her arms fully extended. Gratefully the blonde met her halfway and dipped her head down. She marveled at Fleur’s hair, the polar opposite of her own coarse, bushy hair. The fine strands felt like silk and she found herself enjoying the simple motions, even though her shoulders were starting to burn.

Blue eyes slipped shut and a deep, satisfied rumble emitted from Fleur’s throat, almost like a purr. Feeling bolstered by the gesture, Hermione doubled down and dutifully washed Fleur’s hair, careful not to get any suds on her face or in her eyes. It took her several minutes to complete, as Fleur’s hair was deceptively thick; her muscles were screaming at her by the time she completed her task. 

Once she had finished with Fleur’s hair, she took the blonde by the shoulders and directed her to the stream of water, rinsing out the shampoo. Thankfully, Fleur was tall enough to block the water stream so she didn’t have to worry about getting splashed in the face by soapy water.

_‘So far, so good.’_

Hermione was feeling very pleased with herself, all things considered. But so far she could keep her eyes on Fleur’s face. The bigger still challenge awaited her. 

“Okay, so body wash is next.” Hermione quickly grabbed the wildflower scented soap from the caddy, offering it to Fleur to smell and repeating ‘soap’ a few times. 

The blonde looked delighted by the soap, chattering excitedly and pointing to the image on the label, her eyes full of recognition. “Flerr!”

“Ha, I guess that’s true,” Hermione laughed lightly, feeling the tension breaking just slightly. “Okay. So, I guess this is like shampoo but for your body instead.” Hermione began to explain, squeezing some gel into her hand and then Fleur’s. The blonde raised her hands to her head like she had done for the shampoo. “No, Fleur,” Hermione spoke quickly, shaking her head, causing the woman to freeze. 

“No?” A deep crease formed across Fleur’s brow. Hermione thanked every lucky star out there when she realized that nodding and head shaking seemed to have the same meanings in Fleur’s culture. At least it made teaching Fleur ‘yes’ and ‘no’ much easier.

“Soap.” Hermione wiggled the bottle before replacing it in the caddy and then grabbed the other bottle. “Shampoo,” she pointed to her head, hoping that was enough to help the blonde distinguish which was which and what went where.

Fleur nodded, slowly repeating the words, having great difficulty with the ‘sh’ sound for shampoo. She pointed to her head when she said shampoo but looked confused by the concept of soap and how it differed. She held her hand out toward Hermione, the gel still pooled in her palm. “Soap?”

Hermione drew her lips into a tight line, causing her cheeks to puff up a little. “Uh, it’s for your body…” She rubbed her palms together to form a light lather and then started to rub the soap across herself, starting at her shoulders. She was keenly aware of the intense gaze watching her every movement. “Can you do this yourself?” She gestured to Fleur’s hands and then her body. Mercifully Fleur seemed to understand and didn’t need a hands on lesson like the shampooing, and started mimicking Hermione’s washing style, lathering the soap in her hands and then rubbing it over herself. 

“Perfect, now I’m going to just, uh, turn around to give you some privacy…” ‘ _And finally get some privacy for myself_ ,’ Hermione thought quickly as she turned her back to the other woman. She was certain that Fleur had looked at her body but the blonde was keeping her hands to herself and being respectful. While she would not have minded if Fleur got a little handsy, despite their nakedness and close proximity, sex was the furthest thing from her mind. With her back facing Fleur, she quickly set to the task of soaping up her body. She had nearly finished when a soft tap on her shoulder caught her attention.

“Her-mih-nee?”

Hermione turned around and her knees almost gave out when she took in the sight before her. Fleur was standing there proudly for inspection of her handiwork: her arms held out wide; her skin slick with soap and water; and a bright smile lit up her face. She was clearly pleased with herself. 

“Flerr soap!”

Hermione couldn’t help as her eyes followed a trail of bubbles sliding down the vast expanse of thoroughly soaped pale skin on display, marred only by some surface cuts and bruises on her legs and arms. Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed an unexpected addition between Fleur’s legs. _‘Oh shit, she’s got a prick! Bollocks and all! It’s actually rather ni… No, stop! Don’t look! Don’t even think about it. Get it together.’_ She quickly chastised herself for letting her gaze linger, shaking her head as her eyes jumped back up to meet pale blue. She realized she had been caught looking when she saw a small smirk playing at the corner of the other woman’s lips.

“Yep, you did good, Fleur,” she managed to squeak out, not wanting to discourage the blonde. Fleur _had_ done a proper job of soaping herself up and it wasn’t her fault that Hermione was a mess. She cleared her throat in an attempt to cover for her awkwardness and carefully took Fleur by the shoulders (leaving a wide breadth between their bodies) to position her under the stream of water.

“Ahem, let’s get you rinsed off.” She quickly demonstrated rubbing water along her arms in the hopes that Fleur would figure it out and do the rest. She turned back around to finish soaping herself up.

Once Fleur was cleaned off, Hermione hastily rinsed her own body and turned off the water. She only had one towel with her so she did a light rub down to dry herself off before passing it over to Fleur, who imitated her motions and began patting herself. While Fleur was preoccupied, she stepped out of the shower and hurried over to the bench where she had left their clothes. 

“Okay, so here, put this on.” Hermione handed Fleur the shirt and shorts she had picked out for her earlier and quickly pulled on her own clothes. She already knew that she had to take Fleur to get proper clothes, but after seeing her anatomy, she had to modify her plans slightly. When she turned back around, the blonde was surprisingly dressed and playing with the edge of the stretchy basketball shorts, rubbing the mesh fabric between her fingers.

Hermione took a deep breath, glad that the shower ordeal was finally behind them and they were both safely covered once more. Hopefully in the future Fleur would be able to clean herself without supervision.

She shook her head and ran her fingers through her curls, which were still dripping water from lack of a proper post-shower drying.

“Okay, let’s go back to the camp.” Hermione wrapped the soggy used clothes in the damp towel, handed the caddy of toiletries to Fleur to hold, and led the way out of the shower building. She felt horrible that she didn’t have shoes that would fit Fleur, though she didn’t seem to mind going barefoot. Come to think of it, Fleur hadn’t worn shoes when she was in her other form, either. She briefly wondered if Fleur was able to transition between the two states, but couldn’t think of a good reason she would stay in a form that she was clearly uncomfortable in. Her heart still clenched at the memory of seeing the blonde so broken in the woods when she found her.

It startled her that after just a day and a half she was not only used to seeing ‘human Fleur,’ but was also having a difficult time remembering Fleur any other way. If not for the large scars she had noticed on the blonde’s back, she might have thought she imagined Fleur’s other form. Those two discolored lines running parallel to Fleur’s shoulder blades were tangible proof of what had once been there. It struck her as odd that the wounds looked old and fully healed, rather than fresh as she might have expected, and she once again wondered what Fleur had gone through during her transformation. She didn’t believe in magic, but she had no logical or scientific explanation as to what could have caused it. Then again, up until a few days earlier she wouldn’t have been able to explain the existence of feathered, winged women. 

“Flerr come with Her-mih-nee.” Fleur slung an arm around the shorter woman for support; happily swinging the plastic container of toiletries in the other.

Hermione blushed a little at the gesture. She wasn’t accustomed to being so touchy-feely, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it. She had to remind herself that this was a necessity and likely nothing more. Aside from a few subtle glances in the shower, Fleur hadn’t really shown an interest in her. She scoffed bitterly to herself, _‘Figures that my first crush be unrequited.’_

“Yes, let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fleur chattered nonstop on the way back to the campsite, repeating the human words she had learned thus far; carefully working through each syllable and sound. She knew that her pronunciation was off, and despite getting increasingly frustrated by it, it just solidified her determination to get it right. Everything sounded so strange to her. So foreign. The words made her tongue and mouth move in ways that she wasn’t used to. But she could learn. She had to. Mate or not, she wanted to understand Hermione and be a part of her world, out of curiosity and necessity. She didn’t have another option; she had no one else to help her and nowhere else to go. Her fate rested solely in Hermione’s hands and she decided that she would keep an open mind and do whatever Hermione told her. 

Her first day in the human world was off to a strange start; beginning with the lumpy food she had been served for breakfast. It tasted bland and made her stomach upset but, not wanting to insult Hermione, she ate it anyway.

The ‘shower’ had been an overall pleasant, albeit rather unexpected, experience. The ‘shampoo’ and ‘soap’ were so alien to her and felt strange on her hair and skin, although she had liked smelling like Hermione. They didn’t have either in the Coven. Instead, they occasionally used special oils derived from various plants that they rubbed into their hair and feathers. Usually quick dips in the river and preening were enough to keep their bodies clean.

It had initially caught her off guard when Hermione started removing her clothes, but she hadn't minded one bit and had even stolen several looks at the beautiful woman. However, once she realized it was solely for bathing, she thought nothing of it. Communal bathing was a regular practice among the Veela - having someone there to help with the hard to reach areas on the back between the wings was essential. 

She thought it was endearing how embarrassed Hermione was, her face was bright red the entire time. Especially when Hermione finally looked at her body after she finished using the soap. It hadn’t escaped her notice that those golden-brown eyes lingered on certain areas and it made her feel oddly proud. It made her heart swell to think that her mate found her attractive. Fortunately, it was the only thing to swell.

The clothes Hermione gave her felt strange on her skin. They were unlike anything she had touched before. Especially the bottoms. She had never felt fabric that _stretched_ when pulled. While these clothes were different from what she was used to wearing, she actually liked them and the way they fit over her body. She did find it a little unsettling how easily she was accepting various aspects of human culture. 

“Sss-ham-poo.” She tried again. This word was particularly tricky to her.

“Shampoo.”

“Sssh-ham-poo.”

“Sh-am-poo.”

Fleur practiced the individual sounds, doing her best to mimic what she heard.

“Fleur, we’re going to go into town next. I need to go shopping for food and we need to get you clothes that fit you right.” Hermione was talking and she did her best to listen but she didn’t recognize any of the words except for her name. She just smiled and nodded.

“Flerr come with Her-mih-nee?” It was quickly becoming her go-to phrase when she didn’t fully understand what Hermione was saying: an unfortunately frequent occurrence. 

“Yes, I need you to come with me.” The brunette nodded her head in confirmation. 

Fleur didn’t respond and simply squeezed Hermione’s shoulders softly as they walked. She was still feeling incredibly tired and off balance, and she was grateful that her mate was being so helpful. Mercifully her eyes seemed to have adjusted, and her headache had almost completely dissipated. She resumed her vocabulary practice for the remainder of the walk back to the campsite. 

Back at camp, Hermione spent some time moving about doing Goddess-knows-what before taking her to see ‘the car.’ She had seen it sitting near the campsite and recognized what it was from the tiny toy she had shown Hermione, but it was so much bigger up close. So big that she could get inside! She found herself oddly excited by the prospect and allowed Hermione to direct her in. Once she was seated, Hermione put a strap across her chest and lap that held her in place. She didn’t like having her movement restricted and tugged at it. She quickly learned that if she pulled it and let go, it would snap back against her; which stung her sensitive skin. After that lesson she stopped fidgeting. Besides, Hermione didn’t seem phased by it and she was trying to act the same way. The brunette was sitting calmly in her seat watching her movements. 

Her attention drifted to the various knobs and buttons and she started poking everything, though most of her actions were met with a quick “No, Fleur,” followed by an explanation that she didn’t understand. She was particularly interested in the vertical stick in between their chairs. Hermione’s hand rested on the round bulb at the top and she wondered why the brunette was so possessive. Despite her curiosity, she complied with her instruction of ‘no touch’ and didn’t try again. She had received a frantic “No” when she tried to pull on the small silver latch on the wall to her right. Whatever it was, it was definitely not to be played with.

She sat there quietly, wondering what she was supposed to be doing. Was this something humans did for fun? She remembered that Hermione had shown her that the toy moved when pushed but so far they had done nothing of the sort. 

“Okay, Fleur, now that we’ve practiced sitting in the car, I’m going to start the engine now.”

“Flerr come with Herminee?” Fleur noted with no small amount of pride that she had said her mate’s name without the choppy breaks between the different sounds. Progress.

The brunette nodded and instructed her with a simple “Stay, Fleur.”

“Flerr stay,” she spoke with determination and the other woman put a shiny flat rock into a hole near the round object that reminded her of a wreath and twisted it. 

The terrified screech that echoed through the cab of the car was deafening. Fleur thrashed against the seat as the car shook to life but that blasted belt kept her in place and she didn’t know how to escape it. 

“It’s okay, Fleur, it’s okay! Calm down, it won’t hurt you!” Hermione soothed, her hand resting gently on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. 

It took several long minutes for her to settle down and realize that the car wasn’t actually hurting her. Aside from being loud and shaking, it really wasn’t doing anything at all. 

“Good, Fleur. That’s very good, you’re doing so well. Cars are good, we use them to drive and move around.” 

Fleur nodded but was immediately distracted by a cool wind that was now coming out of holes in ‘the dashboard’ in front of her. She put her face up close and giggled at the way it tickled her. How had humans learned to collect wind? Was it inside the car? She also figured out that if she moved the little flaps, the wind would be redirected. She spent a few moments playing since it was something she could touch without Hermione telling her no. 

“I’m going to drive around the camping lot a few times to get you used to moving in the car and then we’re going to town.” Hermione continued to explain, rather needlessly for all the good it did. Still, Fleur liked that Hermione tried to talk to her even if she didn’t understand most of it. She found her mate’s voice pleasant and it soothed her.

“Okay. Here we go.” Hermione moved the stick and the car lurched forward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make Fleur roll a d20 for ‘boner control’ in the shower scene? Yes I did. She got a 20/20… BUT I will be making her roll frequently, so don’t you worry… I’m sure an awkward situation is bound to pop up at some point in time.
> 
> Also, huge thanks to The_Lochness_Monster for reading through this madness and keeping me on track to Useless-Lesbianville.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for brief scene of self harm. I think it’s light and short mention but I’d rather be diligent.

Hermione released a long sigh of relief as she all but fell into her camping chair; a well-deserved mug of tea clutched firmly in one hand and several aspirin in the other. The heat of the evening fire warmed her cheeks and the song of crickets accompanied the melody of the crackling logs. 

She was grateful for the chance to finally sit down and relax after what she could only describe as one of the most challenging days of her life. The trip into town had been a comedy of errors that made the morning’s shower hurdle look like child’s play. 

She popped the pills and chased them down with a hearty swig of her beverage before she leaned back and closed her eyes, weakly rubbing her temples in an attempt to soothe her headache while her medication kicked in. She groaned softly; nursing her drink and her pounding head as she reflected on the afternoon.

Getting Fleur comfortable with the idea of driving had been surprisingly easy. She had taken well to being in the car when they practiced sitting still, though her curiosity got the better of her and she tried to touch everything. Hermione had felt bad about telling her ‘no’ so often, but some things, like the gearshift and door handles, were not to be played with. Aside from a few panicked moments when she first started the engine and again when the car first started rolling, Fleur quickly settled and seemed to almost enjoy the ride. She gazed out the window with her hands pressed against the glass, her eyes once again filled with that same excitement and wonder they held when she first experienced hot running water. 

They had made several passes around the narrow loop that snaked through the small campground before she felt comfortable taking Fleur out onto the open road. At first, the blonde had eagerly watched the landscape moving by, but she got a bit carsick once they started driving faster. She had instinctively curled up into a ball with her eyes closed for the remainder of the short drive. Hermione filed that tidbit away as something to work on later. Fleur would not make it through the trip back to England if she couldn’t handle thirty minutes on the highway. 

Once they were in the small town, Hermione had to coerce Fleur out of the car; the blonde was adamant on staying in the familiar comfort of the vehicle. After many failed attempts (including trying to peel her reluctant companion out of her seat), she employed a new strategy: she simply pretended to walk away. She remembered the trick used to work on her when she was a child, and as she was quickly running out of options and patience, she elected to give it a try. She made it three steps before she was all but tackled by a panicked blonde. She wouldn’t have left Fleur, of course, but the French woman didn’t know that, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t glad her slightly underhanded tactic worked. 

From the moment she stepped out of the car, Fleur was incredibly agitated and clung for her for comfort as well as support. Pale blue eyes darted around and her head was on a swivel as she took in her foreign surroundings. She even hissed a few times when someone walked too close for her comfort. Hermione noticed people watching them curiously as they passed by, but she just ignored them and did her best to keep Fleur moving.

The first stop they made was a department store. It took multiple tries to get Fleur to walk past the automatic doors. The whooshing seemed to set her off and she dug her heels in, refusing to enter the building. Hermione had to demonstrate walking in and out of the store a few times before the blonde reluctantly crossed the threshold. 

Once inside, Hermione led her to the men’s department where she grabbed several packs of boxer-briefs. Having no understanding of male underwear and what was comfortable, she thought it was a good middle point. Later, the sales clerk had given her a raised eyebrow but accepted her money without question. 

It had been awkward as hell getting Fleur into said undergarments. She closed her eyes, blushing profusely as she knelt in front of a half-naked Fleur, and held the underwear out for her to step into. The blonde didn’t understand that shorts and underwear was a ‘both’ situation and seemed to think that one or the other was sufficient. But eventually they emerged from the family restroom with both articles of clothing in place. 

Shoes had been another unforeseen challenge. Hermione had tried different styles to see if Fleur seemed keen on any particular type. It quickly became clear that Fleur did not want to wear them regardless of style, and raised a bit of a fuss, flicking the shoes off before Hermione could lace, strap, or otherwise secure the shoes to her feet. Only when Fleur saw her getting frustrated did she stop protesting and resigned to allow her to slip on a pair of light mesh trainers. Once the shoes were in place, Fleur tried to walk around in the sitting area. The shoes only compounded Fleur’s struggle with balance and walking and the blonde kept lifting her knees high, taking exaggerated steps - much like a dog when wearing booties in the snow. 

Hermione knew she shouldn’t laugh at her friend’s expense, but she couldn’t help it. However, the pitiful look she received was enough for her to swallow any residual giggles and manage a straight face. 

With shoes on her feet, Fleur followed - more accurately clung to - Hermione to the women’s clothing section for shirts. Hermione was thrilled to note that Fleur seemed to enjoy this part of their shopping trip, her previous anxiety and trepidation giving way to excitement. She bravely ventured away from Hermione, but she always stayed in line of sight and never more went than a few meters away. She eagerly touched the various fabrics, occasionally holding up shirts with patterns that caught her eye. She was drawn to bright colored prints, the kinds of shirts tourists tended to wear when visiting Hawaii or the Caribbean. 

It made Hermione groan internally, they were supposed to be blending in, but she couldn’t deny Fleur her happiness, so she helped her try on a few items. She tossed a pack of tank tops into the cart for her underclothes rather than trying to navigate the lingerie section. She was thankful that Fleur had a small enough bust that bras (or lack thereof) wouldn’t be an issue; she wasn’t sure she could handle another embarrassing half-naked underwear situation in one day. If it became an issue, she would deal with it later. 

After picking out a handful of shirts (including some plain, nondescript t-shirts to go along with the floral print button ups) and a hoodie, the duo tackled the men’s pants section. This was by far the easiest part of their trip and they left with three pairs of jeans after just fifteen minutes. The lack of variation of patterns and designs had caused Fleur to lose interest quickly and she had accepted trying on whatever Hermione gave her. 

A quick loop around the rest of the store resulted in a sketchpad, colored pencils, toiletries, anti-nausea medication, and a large duffel bag getting added to the mix. Hermione was grateful that her parents trusted her with a credit card joined to their account, as she wouldn’t have been able to afford the bill otherwise. However, explaining spending almost 400 Euros was going to be tricky, but she reasoned that Fleur needed clothes, so she would find a way to explain the charges. She paid and the pair hurried back to the car to move on to their next stop. She was amazed by how much Fleur had calmed down in just the hour of being in town. She was still obviously on edge but she had stopped hissing in agitation and was looking at things curiously rather than in fear. 

Mercifully, the laundromat was empty. Hermione assumed it was because it was the middle of the day and most people were at work, so she and Fleur had the place to themselves. Fleur had spent the majority of the time opening and closing the lids to the washers, sticking her head in the dryers, or pushing whatever buttons she could find. Once she grew bored with that, she sat at the table with the brunette and busied herself with her new sketchpad and pencils. She primarily drew landscapes, though depictions of herself and Hermione featured a couple of times. Doing laundry had been a relaxing and much needed break in the day, both women were content to sit quietly at their table while waiting for the clothes to finish. 

The grocery store was just as trying on Hermione’s nerves as the clothing store had been. Fleur was hungry and had tried to sample everything in the fresh produce section - especially the mushrooms. The blonde would gravitate over to the display every chance she got. After her third pass, a clerk had come over to yell at them and Hermione had done her best to tell them that she would pay the difference but her French was shaky at best. Thankfully, it was enough to appease the clerk and they were let off with a warning. 

After that she kept an arm securely around Fleur’s waist since holding her hand would have made no difference, as the French woman’s long limbs gave her quite a reach. She certainly didn’t mind the closeness but it did make shopping rather difficult. In the end she instructed Fleur to hold the cart, which kept her hands occupied and safe from wandering the shelves. Fleur seemed to be proud of having something to do and she took her cart pushing duty seriously. Something to remember for the next time they went shopping. 

Once their tasks were complete, Hermione whisked them back to the safety of the campground. 

“Herminee?”

Hermione cracked an eye and glanced over at the woman emerging from the tent. Fleur had decided to take a short nap while Hermione sorted out the newly acquired groceries and took some time for herself. 

“Hello, Fleur, did you have a nice sleep?” Hermione smiled at the approaching blonde who just tilted her head as she worked through the words. She could practically see the lightbulb click on as Fleur visibly brightened and nodded her head quickly. 

“Hehlo, Herminee. Flerr sleep!” Fleur confirmed and sat down at the table, grabbing the sketch pad and pencils. The moon was already high in the sky as the final rays of the sun were just dipping below the horizon. The light from the fire and moon seemed hardly adequate to work by, but the blonde was undeterred and continued to sketch.

Hermione just watched her work, smiling inwardly as she observed Fleur - her eyes were so focused and brow slightly furrowed in concentration. The glow of the fire illuminated her features beautifully, and she couldn’t help but stare a little. She was proud of Fleur for trying so hard to acclimate to her new reality so quickly. If she had been in the French woman’s situation she most certainly would have had several days worth of panic mode but Fleur had taken everything in relative stride. Whatever fear or distrust of humans Fleur had seemed to have dimmed slightly at some point in their afternoon, but she wasn’t sure where that turning point had been. Maybe there was no reason at all, and it was simply because Fleur trusted her. 

Once the medicine kicked in and her headache started to dissipate, Hermione got up to join Fleur at the table. She had needed the break but she didn’t want to waste valuable time. While she didn't want to push Fleur too hard in one day, she had to get Fleur to understand her situation. Preferably sooner than later. Since Fleur had done so well with being accepting of everything else that day, she figured she might as well give it a try. Lighting the gas lantern, she settled next to the blonde, leaving a few inches between them, though the little voice in her head begged her to close the distance.

“Fleur, may I have the sketchpad?” Hermione pointed to indicate her intent. “Hermione want.”

Fleur looked up from her drawing of a large oak tree to Hermione’s outstretched hand and pointed at the paper. “Herminee want?”

“Yes, please. Hermione want.” 

Fleur nodded and slid the pad over, watching curiously as Hermione drew an alternating pattern of a moon and a sun five times. Each time she drew a sun or moon she would say the word day or night, respectively, which Fleur repeated. 

“In five days, I have to leave, and I’m hoping you come with me. You don’t have to of course, it’s your choice, but…” Hermione trailed off, realizing she was starting to ramble and confuse the other woman. She tapped the sun-moon pattern, then drew a car under the fifth sun. “I have to return to London.” She paused, realizing that Fleur wouldn’t understand that and she tried to simplify the message, speaking slowly and trying not to sound too condescending. “Hermione go to London.”

Fleur blinked, “London?”

Hermione pulled out her mobile and opened a search window, bringing up images of England’s capital city. “London.” 

Fleur’s brows furrowed deeply as she looked at the pictures of Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Big Ben, and other famous landmarks going by on Hermione’s mobile as the brunette scrolled slowly. “Herminee go to London?”

“I have to. It’s my home. Hermione’s home.”

“Home?”

Hermione nodded and quickly drew a house and cartoonish stick figures of herself and her parents standing out front. She tapped the house and then her chest a few times. “Home.” 

Fleur sat quietly for several moments looking between Hermione, the mobile, and the drawing. The British woman could see the gears turning in her head but decided to be quiet and let Fleur work through whatever it was she was processing. She wasn’t at all prepared for what Fleur did next. 

Fleur took the notepad back and started to create a scene. She first drew what appeared to be a village of sorts, with several conical wooden huts with sloping sides all grouped together. She then added in herself, but in her other form, with her white plumage and wings held out to the sides. She drew other women like her, their feathers were various shades of browns. 

Hermione didn’t have time to take in this new information - confirmation that Fleur did in fact belong to some sort of clan or tribe, because the blonde suddenly threw the sketch across the table, hit her fists against the wooden table top, and started to scream. It sounded like a wounded animal and the pained, uneven sobs shook Hermione to the core. She had been half-expecting Fleur to have a breakdown or something like it, however, the intensity and physical nature of the sudden outburst took Hermione off guard. 

In fact, it scared her. 

Hermione knew that Fleur was strong, much stronger than her at least, so if it came down to a fight or physical contest, she was at disadvantage. While Fleur had never shown any sort of aggression towards her, Hermione found herself nervously shying away. But instead of lashing out at her companion, Fleur turned on herself, scratching viciously at her arms, her nails leaving angry red marks on her smooth skin. 

Hermione jumped to action when she witnessed this and instinctively wrapped her arms around the distressed woman, effectively pinning her arms to her sides so she couldn’t hurt herself anymore. The blonde thrashed and struggled hard against her, even lifting her off the bench a few times in her attempt to break free, but Hermione held fast and never let go. 

After what felt like hours, but was likely only a minute or two, Fleur’s strength gave out and she slumped in defeat against Hermione, sobbing into her shoulder and soaking her shirt with tears. She was still borderline hysterical, chattering rapidly between gasps for breath, but at least she had stopped struggling or trying to hurt herself. 

“I’m here, Fleur. You’re not alone. I won’t leave you.” Hermione murmured reassuringly into silky blonde hair that was pressed against her cheek. She loosened her grip around the Frenchwoman, one hand gently stroking her back along her spine, the other holding her around the waist. She wasn’t sure what else she could say or do to be reassuring but she decided in that moment that she would do whatever she could to help her friend. 

The drawing and Fleur’s reaction had confirmed her hypothesis that whatever happened to Fleur was unexpected and Fleur was in fact all alone. Looking at what little she knew of Fleur’s situation, it was the only logical conclusion. She would not - could not - leave Fleur here to fend for herself. She was going to figure out a way to get Fleur into London. Consequences be damned. 

Hermione held Fleur until her tears ran dry and she was able to sit up on her own once more. She twisted on the bench to face her companion, gently cupping the blonde by the jaw while her thumbs brushed away the salty tear marks. “I won’t leave you, Fleur. Fleur come with Hermione.”

Fleur sniffed and stared deeply into Hermione’s eyes as if searching for the truth, her usually crystal clear eyes were glassy and swollen from her crying. “Flerr come with Herminee?”

Hermione simply nodded and lowered one hand to stroke Fleur’s forearm, carefully avoiding the scratches. “Yes. To London.”

“Flerr come with Herminee… London?” She pointed at the mobile, still displaying an image of Tower Bridge. 

“Yes, Fleur. We’re going to London.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fleur lay awake that night, idly staring up at the ceiling of the ‘tent.’ Sleep evaded her, despite her physical exhaustion and mental fatigue from trying to keep up with Hermione all day. An endless stream of thoughts kept rushing around in her head and prevented her from fully relaxing. She couldn’t focus on one thought long enough to resolve or address the issue before her mind bounced over to a new topic. 

She was restless but did her best to stay still, fighting the urge to toss and turn for fear of waking the brunette next to her. Hermione had fallen asleep as soon as she had laid down on the sleeping mat; her body heat and an occasional whistling snore was the only proof of her mate’s presence in the dark. 

Knowing that sleep was a lost cause, Fleur quietly got up - mindful not to disturb the slumbering woman - pulled on her new ‘hoodie,’ and left the sleeping shelter. She purposefully left her ‘sneakers,’ as she hated the dreadful things that constricted her feet. She had only agreed to wear them because Hermione was so persistent. 

She walked away from the camp, taking careful, calculated steps until she found herself at the edge of the woods. She was impressed that she made it without falling or stumbling; her muscles still ached from all the walking she had done that day and it was even harder to move without assistance. She leaned heavily against a tree, clutching the trunk to steady herself, and peered out into the moonlit forest. 

Fleur was torn. She didn’t know where she belonged anymore. She was no longer a Veela, and therefore could not stay in the forest - she would surely perish come winter, if not sooner. The Coven was already preparing the winter stocks and she didn’t have the means to procure the necessary supplies to see her through the starving times ahead. But despite her appearances, she wasn’t really human, either. That left her in the middle, stuck straddling two opposing worlds. It made her head spin in an attempt to make a decision of what to do, though she knew in her heart what she had to do. But knowing and accepting were two very different beasts. 

Up until that evening, she hadn’t truly allowed herself the time to reflect or process the changes in her life. She had been completely distracted by simply trying to keep up with the brunette. Even when they had some quiet time, she had been able to focus on her drawings and more or less ignore her predicament. However, reality had hit her hard when she looked at her drawing of herself and her mothers. She was confronted by the fact that her world had completely shifted; that nothing was the same and everything that she knew and loved was gone. She couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

In retrospect, Fleur was ashamed by her behavior, she had always been taught to be poised and collected, but the pain had been too great to keep dammed up inside. 

To her surprise, Hermione hadn’t turned her away. No. Even though she was frightened by the outburst, Hermione had embraced her and tried to comfort her, speaking soothing words until she had calmed down. Her heart swelled with gratitude and the thought that Hermione truly cared about her. Unlike Sage, Hermione hadn’t cast her aside in her moment of need and instead had accepted her for who she was, both before and after the transformation. She could see it in those soft brown eyes. Hermione was her one constant; a tether keeping her from sinking into the darkness in her mind that threatened to drown her. Without Hermione she would have had no chance of navigating the human world.

It had caught her off guard when Hermione took her into the human village earlier. At first it had been terrifying to be surrounded by humans. There were so many! However, once she realized that they weren’t as scary as she was led to believe, she had actually found it exhilarating. Everything was so new, so different. There was so much to see and try, and she wanted to learn everything she could. 

She had been taught her entire life that humans were the enemy, yet here she was, readily jumping into their strange world with both feet. Guilt and shame roiled about in the pit of her stomach. Her eager acceptance of human culture felt like a betrayal of everything she had known. But at the same time, she herself had been betrayed: by Sage, by her mothers, by the Coven, and most of all, by the Goddess. 

She could at least justify the Goddess’s actions as the workings of a manipulative deity, possibly even revenge for failing to fulfill her pledge. However, the Coven's response surprised her. She knew that the others could have found her if they wanted. Sage wasn’t the only tracker in the Coven, but no one else came. No one was looking for her. What had Sage told them? Did the brown-feathered Veela really say she was dead? It burned that her mothers would take Sage’s word without proof. Even if they thought she was dead, why didn’t they try to find her body to give her proper burial rites? Were they so embarrassed by her actions at the ceremony that they would rather have just been rid of her? Were they glad she was gone? A hot, angry tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with a growl.

Regardless if they thought she was dead or alive, it was clear that she was already ostracized, so did she owe them anything? Should she feel guilty by trying to survive, even if that meant turning to the humans for help? 

_ “Yes, Fleur. We’re going to London.”  _

Hermione’s words echoed in her ears. The prospect of leaving the forest was daunting. It was all she had ever known. Logically she knew that Hermione lived somewhere else, since she and her small clan left after their visit each summer, but the idea of actually going there herself hadn’t crossed her mind. If she was being honest, she thought that Hermione would stay there with her. But according to Hermione’s drawing, she - no, they - were leaving in five days. 

London. 

The images Hermione showed her on ‘the mobile’ were so surreal that if she hadn’t seen them with her own eyes she wouldn’t have believed it. Could she live somewhere like that? She had struggled in the village Hermione took her to earlier and London looked much bigger - full of even more things she didn’t understand.  She didn’t like not knowing about the things around her. She considered herself to be rather intelligent and independent, the one with the answers that others sought out for guidance. She was supposed to be the next Coven leader, after all. Yet here she was relying on Hermione to guide her and teach her. Human culture was so bizarre that she felt as helpless as a newborn chick in this new world. 

She smiled fondly at the thought of the brown-eyed girl. Her mate. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point she was starting to truly see the bushy-haired brunette as her partner. Even though they had known each other for just a handful of days, she already trusted Hermione with her life. Just days earlier the thought of giving her heart to someone and settling down had terrified her, but now the idea of being with Hermione didn’t scare her. In fact, at this time it was the one thing in her life that felt right. 

She was determined to find a way to prove herself worthy of Hermione’s affections in return, however, that led her to a new dilemma: how could she explain her intentions? She had seen the furtive glances and subtle blushes, indicating that perhaps Hermione felt the same way, but she had no way of knowing. What were human mating customs? For Veela, a potential mate would offer gifts of food, hides, and tools to demonstrate their ability to care and provide for the other. Once accepted, there were more stages to the courtship process that the new couple completed together, including building a new hut to live in, before the formal bonding ceremony took place. She shook her head in annoyance, realizing that it was highly improbable that humans had the same traditions. Just another thing to add to the steadily growing list of human things she didn’t understand. 

She sat down on the ground at the base of the tree, legs tucked up against her chest and arms wrapped around her knees. She continued to stare out into the forest, hoping that answers to her questions might come to her. But none did. 

“Fleur? Where are you?”

Fleur whipped her head around when she heard Hermione’s panicked voice calling to her.

“Flerr here,” she replied simply to announce her presence but made no effort to move. Her body felt impossibly heavy. Slender arms snaked around her a moment later, the brunette babbling quickly at her as she hugged her close. Her curls tickled Fleur’s neck and she found herself melting into the embrace. 

“I woke up and you were gone! I was so worried something had happened to you or you had left! And after this afternoon with your outburst I was afraid you might hurt yourself again. You scared me so much! Please, Fleur, stay with me… Fleur stay with Hermione.”

“Flerr stay with Herminee.” Fleur murmured, enjoying the unexpected affection. While she didn’t understand all that Hermione had said, she could hear the emotion in her voice and it spoke volumes. There was genuine concern and caring, further evidence that Hermione might care about her in a more than friends way. 

Fleur looked out once more at the forest she called home for eighteen years and sighed. As much as it made her heart ache with loss, she knew there was nothing out there for her. Her future didn’t lie among the moss and willows, anymore. It was in a new land called London. The thought of leaving still scared her, but as long as she had Hermione, things would be okay. She would get through this and was determined to forge a new path in life. Without a trace of doubt in her mind, she nuzzled her head against the bushy brown curls. 

“Flerr come with Herminee to London.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this chapter was a struggggggle for me to write (Fleur was being tricky and elusive), so I hope you enjoyed it. If not, well, feel free to tell me that, too.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the delay! I just started working a second job so writing has taken a bit of a back seat... but have no fear, I will continue to pluck away at the story, it will just take me a little longer to post. 
> 
> Anyway, I was going to write a wholesome, fluffy chapter after everything I put Fleur through. Then this happened and I just went with it. I hope you read the tags on this story.

Fleur sat quietly on her log after another long day, happily basking in the heat of the evening fire as she worked on a basket. It had been a good day and now she had some time to relax and digest her bellyful of fish and vegetables that she and Hermione had prepared earlier. It was a simple meal, but she preferred the fresh food over the soft mush that Hermione gave her in the mornings. Even though she didn’t like the ‘porridge,’ she was getting used to eating it after having it for five meals. Luckily, her body seemed to be adjusting to the changes in her diet and it no longer upset her stomach. 

She was completely focused on her work, her fingers moved quickly and confidently as she worked on creating the basket. Weaving was second nature to her and had always helped her clear her mind. She could get lost for hours in her work, falling into the steady rhythm. 

Over. Under. Through. 

Now the task brought her a sense of comfort that she hadn’t realized she was needing. Something familiar to balance out all of the new information she was taking in as she attempted to immerse herself in the human world. 

It felt so normal. In this moment she was completely at ease and at peace with herself. It was as if her human transition had never happened and this was just another day with the Coven. Without realizing it, her subconscious transported her back to the main fire pit at the center of the Village. She had spent countless evenings just as she was now, weaving by fire light, and she half expected Sage to pop out of the woods and regale her with tales of whatever hunting adventure she had that day. 

She could almost hear the sounds of the Village: the quiet chatter of groups returning from a long day of hunting or gathering in the woods; Trilia humming ancient Veelan tunes as she meditated; the peals of laughter of the young chicks at play. Sounds that she had taken for granted and now would never hear again. Bitterness crept up in her chest and she felt the corners of her eyes start to prick with sharp tears. She realized that her mind was going down a dangerous path and she quickly shoved the feelings aside. It was getting easier to redirect her thoughts and not wallow in the past, but she still had momentary lapses. 

With a few deep breaths, she brought herself back to present and focused once again on her current task.

Over. Under. Through. 

It was a simple piece. Usually, she would have prepared dyed reeds in advance and then used them to develop a pattern, but she made due with what she had. She collected as many reeds as she could carry back when she and Hermione had stumbled across a pond during their walk earlier. Hermione had watched her curiously and even helped carry a small bundle back. She could tell that Hermione longed to ask but she hadn’t questioned it at the time. Even if Hermione had, it wouldn’t have made a difference as she didn’t know how to describe her intended project. Still, it was nice to share the experience with her mate and to have something they both contributed to. 

If they hadn’t found the pond, Fleur would still have been content to just enjoy the walk and Hermione’s company. She didn’t necessarily rely on Hermione’s presence, but she had quickly grown accustomed to being around the brunette to the point that she was having difficulty imagining being without. 

She knew their daily treks out into the forest were to help her build up her strength again, but it was a way for her to say her goodbyes to her homeland and make her peace. Another small yet bittersweet comfort that helped ease the ache surrounding their upcoming departure. She wondered if Hermione realized this and was intentionally scheduling their walks, or if it was just a coincidence. She was grateful, whichever the case may be. She was proud to note that after several days of practice, she could walk small distances unassisted. Despite her progress, she still held onto Hermione out of habit and comfort. Fortunately, Hermione didn’t seem to mind.

In the few days that had passed, Fleur was in near-constant contact with her mate. Holding her hand or shoulder when they walked; idly playing with her hair or stroking her arm while Hermione wrote in her journal; curling around the brunette as they slept. It was a display of both affection and trust, and Fleur hoped that Hermione might take comfort in the small gestures. She took the fact that Hermione hadn’t rebuffed her actions as a good sign. 

Fleur had noticed that initially Hermione would stiffen or shudder slightly, as if surprised by the contact, but she never turned her away. After the first day, the smaller woman had started to lean into the touches and had even begun returning small, tentative gestures of her own. Their fingertips brushing was common, but Hermione would usually quickly retract her hand as a blush adorned her cheeks. There was still restraint and uncertainty in her mate’s actions but it was progress. Even those simple touches filled Fleur’s chest with warmth and made her purr on the inside. And occasionally on the outside. 

The only time she wasn’t touching or within arm’s reach was when they were in the ‘loo,’ and only after she understood Hermione’s desire for privacy. The ‘toilet’ was fascinating to her, and she had spent several long minutes just pushing in the shiny stick to make the water disappear. She wanted to know where the water went and how it suddenly reappeared out of nowhere without a stream to replenish it. Eventually the excessive flushing lost its novelty and she used it for its intended purpose. Why humans had special rooms and chairs for passing waste made no sense to her, but then again, very few ‘human things’ did. 

At some point, she had stopped trying to understand the strange workings of human culture and focused purely on learning the ‘what’ and ‘how’ rather than the ‘why.’ She placated her natural curiosity by telling herself that it would make sense later, and adopted a new strategy: if Hermione was doing it, then she would as well. 

Fleur paused at the end of another round and flexed her fingers, stretching her hand as she dug her toes into the patch of soft grass at her feet. She had shucked her shoes off as soon as they returned from their walk and changed into the stretchy ‘shorts’ that Hermione had given her their first day together. 

She liked her ‘jeans’ well enough (at least more than her shoes) but they severely limited her range of motion. They also added pressure that stimulated her lower region. Factoring in the friction when she moved as well as her attraction to her mate, her new member would regularly stir to life and to make itself known at the least opportune moments. She tried to control herself and focus on her ‘human lessons’ as a distraction but the damned thing had a mind of its own. Thankfully, if Hermione had noticed, she hadn’t commented on or acknowledged her unexpected erections. 

Fleur was torn between feeling grateful and disappointed by this.

She could tell that her hormones and instincts were shifting, her nature prompting her to complete her bonding, and she found herself frequently toeing (crossing) the line between safe and inappropriate thoughts. It seemed that all it took was for Hermione to breathe or smile in her direction for her thoughts to wander and for yet another issue to arise in her pants.

She remembered the conversations she had with her sire-mother about the potential changes her body would undergo once she found a mate. Her mother also told her that it would take a while for her to learn to control her body and urges if she were to be the one to develop an appendage. At the time it hadn’t seemed like such a big deal and she had found it almost comical that she might accidentally have an erection for no apparent reason. Now that she was in the thick of it, it was decidedly not amusing at all. 

And now that she didn’t have the guidance and support of her family, her task of learning control and navigating her new state of mind was exponentially more difficult. She knew there were other changes that her parents hadn’t explained yet. She wished she had paid more attention and regretted that she hadn’t pushed for more information when she had the chance. If only she had known. She didn’t like going into an unknown situation only partially informed. She would have to be extra diligent and aware of herself moving forward. 

“What are you doing, Fleur?” Hermione’s voice broke the silence and Fleur jumped slightly at the unexpected interruption, releasing a surprised squawk. She was so lost in her introspection that she hadn’t heard the other woman approach. She had always hated when someone (usually Sage) managed to sneak up on her, a task now made significantly easier with her dull human senses and distracted mind.

“Fleur…” She held out the unfinished reed basket, unsure of how to explain herself. This was their most common form of communication: hand gestures or drawings and Fleur trusting that Hermione’s translation was accurate. She had no way of knowing otherwise. 

Overall it was working fairly well. Fleur had increased her vocabulary but there were so many words to learn that she often forgot words she had learned and frequently had to ask for reminders. She felt bad for not remembering and was grateful that Hermione was patient with her. If Hermione was ever frustrated by her, she never let it show. 

She was feeling better about the pronunciation for words that she used regularly (prioritizing their names), but every time she felt like she had mastered a new sound or speech pattern, Hermione threw her for another loop with another new word. Hermione’s language was frustratingly complex and Fleur found herself mentally drained each night from the sheer effort of speaking. Sometimes she caught herself reverting back to mumbling to herself in Veelan just to have the opportunity to fully express herself, even if Hermione couldn’t understand what she had said. Still, she couldn’t help but feel proud of the progress she had made in such a short time. In addition to learning individual words, she had added several more important phrases to her steadily growing repertoire. 

“Fleur…” She waved the basket again and quickly demonstrated. “I don’t know.” 

This was one of her first new phrases and quickly became her most commonly used one. It had taken her some time to realize that ‘Fleur’ and ‘I’ could both be used to describe herself and she tried using ‘I’ when she remembered, though she usually reverted to using her name out of habit. She was glad that Hermione didn’t correct her this time. 

“You are weaving.” Hermione supplied as she sat down on the log next to her.

“Fleur weeh-ving.” Fleur repeated the words several times, correcting herself until she was satisfied that she had gotten it right. Hermione patiently waited, absentmindedly twirled a frond between her fingers. 

“Fleur weaving.”

Her mate nodded her approval but didn’t say anything else. Hermione seemed content to just sit quietly and stare into the fire, so Fleur resumed her project. She appreciated that even though their days had been packed with activities, there were periods of silence that neither seemed to feel obligated to fill. It wasn’t tense, both women were content to simply enjoy one another’s presence without the need to talk. 

After a few rounds, Fleur looked up, smiling when she noticed that Hermione looked thoroughly captivated, soft brown eyes watching her every move. She held out the basket slightly, “Hermione want?” 

“I don’t know how.” Hermione shook her head quickly but her eyes suggested otherwise. After several days of careful observation, Fleur had started to pick up on some of Hermione’s mannerisms and nonverbal cues, which helped fill in the unspoken gaps in their communication. 

“It’s so beautiful and I don’t want to mess it up.” The brunette added unnecessarily, as the words held little meaning to Fleur. The blonde, however, focused on the first comment, which she had understood perfectly. 

“Fleur show Hermione.” Fleur offered, grinning broadly when she saw Hermione’s eyes twinkle excitedly at the prospect. She loved the way Hermione’s eyes lit up when she was particularly happy or excited about something and it filled her with pride whenever she was the cause. It only served as further incentive for her to keep working hard at her lessons, regardless of how frustrated she was getting. Seeing Hermione genuinely happy was worth it. 

She placed the base of the basket in Hermione’s lap and moved to kneel on the ground before her. She took Hermione’s hands and guided them, carefully placing her fingers and patiently moving them along. It felt good to share this with the brunette and made her feel like she had something to offer in return. 

It filled her heart with warmth to see Hermione getting so excited over something so simple and she wondered if Hermione was feeling the same way when their roles were reversed. She smiled inwardly when she saw the tip of Hermione’s tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated, and she felt a spike of pride that her mate picked up the pattern quickly and had taken over weaving without needing assistance.

After a few minutes, Fleur sat back on her heels and watched as Hermione added to their basket, occasionally holding up a new frond for Hermione to tuck into place. 

Hermione worked at a slow, steady pace with Fleur overseeing her progress, periodically jumping in to make small adjustments. While she knew that she could have finished the basket (and probably start a new one) in the time it took Hermione to do a few rounds, Fleur was content with letting Hermione work at her own rate. She only took over when it came time to finish the rim to ensure the whole thing wouldn’t unravel as it dried.

Once all of the ends were sufficiently tucked into place, she placed the basket upside down on the nearby table to dry overnight before returning to the fire pit. 

“Thank you, Fleur… that was fun. I’ve never done something like that before.” Hermione smiled up at her as she sat back down on the log. 

Fleur simply returned a lopsided grin in response and tucked a rogue curl behind the other woman’s ear. She remembered there was something she was supposed to say whenever someone said ‘thank you,’ but she couldn’t think of what it was. Her forehead crinkled as she tried to recall the phrase. Thankfully, Hermione noticed her struggling and stepped in to offer assistance.

“You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome… You’re welcome!” She parroted, nodding enthusiastically. 

The pair sat quietly for a few minutes before Hermione twisted to grab her journal off her camp chair. She pulled out the drawing they were using to mark the passage of time, smoothing it out on her lap. 

Four suns had been crossed off. 

“Fleur…” she started, worrying slightly at her lip.

Fleur knew (or had at least surmised) that Hermione was still nervous about leaving. Or rather that Hermione worried that she would change her mind and want to stay in the forest, because every night she tapped the fifth sun and reminded Fleur of the upcoming departure. And every night Fleur assuaged her doubts by offering a confident “Fleur come with Hermione to London,” or something variation of the statement. 

Tonight was no different. 

Fleur pointed to the remaining sun, “Go to London. I go with Hermione.”

Fleur could practically feel the relief radiating off the other woman. She wished she could explain that she would follow Hermione anywhere. She settled for wrapping an arm around petite shoulders and giving Hermione an encouraging (affectionate) side hug as further evidence that she was firm in her decision to leave. She reluctantly retracted her arm after a second or two, but her hand came to rest on the brunette’s knee. 

“Good, yes. Tomorrow we are leaving, so it is best we go to sleep early tonight. It is going to be a long drive and it’s not good to drive tired. Some studies say it’s just as dangerous to drive fatigued as it is to drive under the influence of alcohol…” The brunette started to ramble before catching herself. While she didn’t understand, Fleur didn’t mind listening to Hermione’s monologues. She found it endearing. 

An embarrassed blush spread across the British woman’s cheeks as she grabbed a pencil and started outlining their itinerary for the next few days. She drew two more suns and moons with what appeared to be a big river that spanned beneath the second sun-moon combo. She tapped the river and explained that Fleur would have to hide, raising an eyebrow to check if Fleur understood. 

Fleur responded by ducking her head and curling her shoulders, covering the back of her neck with her hands. “Fleur hide.”

“Yes, when we get to the Channel, you will have to hide.” Hermione swooped her finger along the river. “You will have to hide for a long time.”

Fleur nodded and reached toward the drawing, her finger moving from the sun to the moon, “Fleur hide to night?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to be very quiet.” The brunette held her finger to her lips to reinforce the concept. “We will eat and go to the toilet before we cross so you should be fine, but it will still be several hours before you can come out. Do you understand? You’ll be okay, trust me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Fleur furrowed her brow, trying to pick out the words but in the end came to a simple conclusion. “Fleur trust Hermione.”

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled then.” Hermione smiled, seemingly satisfied that Fleur had more or less understood their upcoming schedule and stood up, releasing a yawn. “Come, Fleur, let’s go to sleep.” 

“Fleur come with Hermione, Fleur sleep,” she chirped and stood, stretching her arms and stiff back. They shared the task of putting out the fire before retiring to their sleeping area.

Fleur laid down on the mat, waiting for Hermione to finish her nightly preparations, one arm folded under her head to support her neck, her eyes already heavy and starting to droop. It surprised her how easily she fell into a routine but she was also grateful that everything had gone so smoothly, all things considered. She wasn’t complaining. It was better than the alternative of struggling alone or having met a cruel human like in the stories she grew up hearing. She was eternally grateful for Hermione and her gentle kindness. 

She glanced over to steal a quick peek at her mate and was startled by the fact that Hermione was facing her as she changed. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that Hermione was an incredibly shy and modest woman, and she usually turned her back when she was in any state of undress. But tonight she was kneeling at the end of the sleeping mat in just her shorts and the fabric chest halter that she wore under her shirt. Her lips were pulled into a sly, taunting smirk as if she knew exactly what she was doing. 

Fleur couldn’t look away, her eyes raking over her mate’s body.

While she had seen Hermione completely naked already, this was different from their bathing time. Hermione was openly displaying herself, not out of necessity like in the shower, but out of her own volition. Her body language and posture was different as well - her soft brown eyes full of desire and want, completely absent of any caution or uncertainty. 

A deep growl built in her chest, the steady rumble vibrated against Fleur’s ribs and up into her throat. She sat up slightly, propping herself up on her elbows. She licked her lips hungrily as Hermione crawled forward on her hands and knees until she was sitting in her lap, straddling her and holding her in place. 

“Hermione…” she husked out, her voice deep and slightly raspy. She wasn’t sure where Hermione’s newfound boldness was coming from, nor did she care. She had a single-track mind centered completely around her mate. 

All rational thought fled her when she felt soft lips pressing against hers. It was so much better than the brief kiss they had shared that night when she thought she would never see Hermione again. It was slow, purposeful, and absolutely wonderful. While it was a gentle embrace, there was an undeniable spark of passion that was rapidly growing into a blazing inferno, setting her body alight in mere seconds. She began kissing Hermione with urgency but it still wasn't enough. She needed more. She was desperate to feel Hermione against her body. 

Fleur sat up completely, using Hermione’s weight as a counterbalance and steadying herself on an arm outstretched straight behind her. Her free hand snaked behind the smaller woman, holding her close at the small of her back. Her skin was so soft here, and her fingers moved in small circles, leaving a trail of raised skin in their wake. 

Every inch of her body felt alert and in tune with her mate’s actions. Hermione was touching her freely and without any hint of shyness or hesitation. Nimble fingers threaded into her blond locks, tugging slightly as fingernails scratched against her scalp. The hint of teeth nipping at her lower lip while soft brown curls tickled her neck.

Fleur sighed against Hermione’s lips and was caught off guard when Hermione took that opportunity to deepen the kiss. While surprising, it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. She had never heard of kissing like this before. Perhaps it was a human thing, and as it was her mission to learn about all aspects of human culture, she was eager to give it a try. She gently pushed back against Hermione’s tongue with her own, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Her action was rewarded with a moan and an equal and opposite reaction. Feeling emboldened, she continued her careful exploration of her mate’s mouth and allowed Hermione to do the same to hers. 

It certainly seemed that Hermione was enjoying herself as well; quiet pants and sighs frequently slipped past those perfectly soft lips. Each sound of pleasure sent a jolt of energy through her body straight to her groin, and she felt herself responding. She knew that Hermione was bound to feel it soon and worried about her reaction. She had caught the brunette staring in the shower a few times but Hermione hadn’t expressed any interest in anything even remotely sexual until now. Even when she had accidentally gotten aroused by her pants, Hermione hadn’t acknowledged it. 

Or maybe she hadn’t seen it in this state? If that was the case, did she even know it would do this? Would she be scared of it? Fleur felt an unpleasant spike of anxiety course through her.

All her doubt melted away when she felt Hermione rocking her hips in slow, languid strokes, each purposefully sliding over her rapidly hardening member. Judging by the pressure on her lap, she knew that Hermione had definitely felt her erection by now. It was prominent enough that there was no way she wasn’t aware of its presence. But instead of being repulsed or frightened, Hermione sped up and increased her efforts, one hand dipping underneath the hem of Fleur’s shirt, nails lightly scratching her back. 

Overwhelmed by the stimulation, Fleur closed her eyes and let Hermione do as she pleased, content to just sit back and enjoy for the time being. 

She could feel the heat radiating from Hermione’s core through the layers of clothing separating their bodies. This realization kicked her brain back into gear. There shouldn’t be anything between them. She tugged impatiently at the cloth barriers.

Hermione rolled off her lap and pulled off the few remaining articles of clothing, laying completely bare on the mat. Her legs were parted to reveal her womanhood and Fleur felt her mouth run dry. For some reason she felt the urge to dive in face first, but the throbbing in her shorts reminded her of her need and instincts. She still made a note to circle back later to pleasure her mate this way later. 

Not to be outdone, Fleur hastily tugged off her clothes, the need to feel her mate’s body against her own outweighed any sense of ceremony or decorum. She was borderline frantic, her actions a blurred frenzy. Her body buzzed with energy and excitement as she kicked off her shorts and underwear, releasing a low groan of relief as the pressure on her length was alleviated. It sprang to attention, harder than she had ever felt it before. It was almost painful. 

A sharp inhale caught her attention and she saw Hermione eyeing her, the tip of her tongue darted out to wet her slightly swollen lips. In a swift movement, she had returned to her place in Fleur’s lap, eagerly grinding their bodies together as she pulled her into another searing kiss. 

Fleur’s vision whited out for a moment when she felt warm wet folds sliding directly against her, coating her length in slick arousal. It was better than anything she had imagined. Admittedly, she hadn’t imagined that much, considering she had only had a few days with her new addition. But this far surpassed her expectations. 

She grasped Hermione’s hips with both hands, fingers pressing firmly into the soft skin as she encouraged Hermione's movements over her lap. Her head felt like it was full of fluff, as if she had drank too much of Magda’s special dandelion-strawberry cordial. It was intoxicating. The world fell away around her, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was Hermione and that’s what she focused on. 

After several minutes of heated kissing and grinding, Fleur’s hands got restless, not content with their passive role. They moved slowly over Hermione’s body, exploring every inch available. One came to rest threaded in thick brown curls while the other palmed at her breasts. How she had longed to touch them and now that she was, she was not disappointed in the slightest. She squeezed the soft skin, listening closely to her mate’s reactions and keeping track of what she seemed to enjoy. 

She reclined back onto the sleeping mat, pulling Hermione down with her, and started rocking her hips in time with Hermione’s motions. She was desperate to feel as much of her mate as possible. She craved more. The urge to bury herself deep inside Hermione felt stronger than her need to breathe. She could tell that Hermione felt the same. She could smell her mate’s arousal; could practically taste it in the air. It drove her wild. 

She gasped and cried out in pleasure when she felt the smooth palm of Hermione’s hand gripping her cock, stroking slowly. She would twist her wrist as her hand moved up and down. Each motion pushed Fleur closer to coming undone and she was content to just let it happen. 

“Fleur, I need you. Please.” Hermione’s voice was breathy against her lips as she raised her hips and guided the tip of her member toward her soaked core. 

Fleur awoke with a jolt, her heart racing and breath coming in shallow pants. She quickly turned her head to check to see if she had accidentally awoken Hermione, but the steady breaths told her that her mate was still fast asleep.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, she rubbed her eyes, brushing away the wispy flyaway hairs that were stuck uncomfortably to the light sweat on her brow. Her dream had felt so real that she didn’t even remember falling asleep. She felt a pang of guilt at having such explicit dreams, that was quickly quelled by the knowledge that Hermione was her mate. It was natural to have urges and thoughts. As long as she didn’t act on them… yet. 

Despite her subconscious thoughts, Fleur knew it wasn’t the right time. They weren’t ready. Not yet. She needed to figure out a way to explain herself before she even considered engaging in any romantic activities. Hermione needed to know first, of that much she was certain. 

A painful throbbing directed her attention southward and she groaned when she saw that at least part of her dream had followed her into reality. Her member was hard and straining uncomfortably against her shorts so much that her sleepwear resembled the tent they slept in. Her skin was burning and the air around her felt still, stagnant, and oppressive. It was suffocating. Her clothes clung uncomfortably to her clammy skin and she fought the urge to strip naked. 

She didn’t want Hermione to wake up and see her issue. Nor could she deal with it when lying next to the brunette. She quickly extracted herself from the mess of limbs and blankets and made her way outside. 

The cool air and light breeze provided instant relief and she took several deep breaths, savoring the freshness. 

She hurried as fast as she could - which was little more than a pained waddle - to the outskirts of camp. She had experienced feeling aroused before when she was younger and her hormones were raging during puberty. She had even pleasured herself when the urges were too strong and she needed relief. But this was far more intense than anything she had felt before and she had never done it with her current anatomy and she wasn’t sure what to expect. 

She thought back to her dream, reflecting on what Hermione had been doing to her before she woke up. She slowly dipped her hand under the stretchy waistband and took out her appendage. Her shorts and underwear fell down, pooling at her ankles. She couldn’t have cared less. 

She tentatively gripped herself, fingers wrapped loosely around the thick member, and slid her hand from base to tip. 

She gasped at the sensation, her free hand shooting out to steady herself against a nearby tree. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. It felt strange but overall enjoyable and she continued to stroke her cock; steadily adding pressure as her hand moved up and down at an increasing pace. Her mind swam with images of Hermione, replaying her dream and adding in other scenes. 

Fleur knew she should be ashamed. It was one thing to be dreaming and completely different to have conscious thoughts. But it felt too good to care and she decided she would worry about it later. 

She started to imagine what it would be like to claim her mate for the first time if her hand felt this good. She experimented a little, adjusting her grip and rhythm as she tried to figure out what felt the best. She quickly learned that she liked swiping her thumb across the sensitive head and also twisting slightly at the base. 

Her hand moved at a frantic pace as her fantasy got increasingly explicit. The coil in the pit of her stomach tightened as her peak started to build. Her breaths came in erratic bursts as she chased her release. 

She climaxed in a cascading wave of pleasure that was over as soon as it had started, leaving her with a sense of bliss. Absolute. Euphoria. Her head swam and slumped against the tree for support, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She let go of her cock and was surprised to find a sticky substance on her fingers and along her leg. Her mothers had given her a high level explanation of mating but they had never mentioned _this_ before. Had that come from her body? She couldn’t quite make out what it was in the dim moonlight but she quickly decided she did _not_ want it on herself. She wiped it off to the best of her ability and hurried to the shower to rinse herself off, hoping that Hermione wouldn’t notice her absence. 

So much for getting a good night’s rest.


	11. Chapter 11

The French countryside was beautiful this time of year. Grassy rolling hills were interspersed with bright patches of wildflowers. A sea of long, emerald blades danced lazily to and fro, driven by an unseen breeze. Small, sleepy towns occasionally dotted the landscape, each surrounded by a patchwork of cultivated pastures of various crops. Corn, wheat, lavender, and sunflowers were among the most common, but tall lattices of grapes made regular appearances. 

An endless sky stretched overhead for miles in any direction. The pristine blue canvas was marred only by an occasional wisp of a cloud that hadn’t yet been burned off by the heat of the summer sun. 

A small white sedan cruised down the thin black river of asphalt that snaked across the picturesque land, its two occupants riding in subdued silence. 

Fleur leaned with her head against the cool window, her eyes distant and unfocused as she watched the scenery go rushing by. 

She had been more energetic at the start of their journey. Her nerves and excitement raged in an internal battle as she shifted in her seat in an attempt to see in all directions at once. Her face was pressed so close to the window that her breath left a little layer of fog on the glass with every shaky exhale. 

All her life she had wondered what lay beyond the horizon, but Veela law and beliefs prevented her from flying far enough to see the world beyond their borders. She had spent countless hours speculating, but never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed this. Truthfully, in her naïveté, she had just imagined the entire world was one big forest, or at least until the edge of the world, wherever that was.

While she had seen images of London, she thought that the city started right at the edge of the forest. So finding out that the forest ended not in a city but rather in sprawling grasslands had been yet another eye opening revelation. The world was so much bigger than she thought possible and it filled her with curiosity.  _ What else might be out there? _ It also made her recognize just how small and insignificant she was in the grand scheme of things.  _ Why would the Goddess have confined her and her coven to such a small area when there was so much more to see? _ She didn’t have the answer and would likely never find out.

After several hours of knee bouncing and finger drumming, her adrenaline rush had worn off and reality set in, leaving her feeling subdued and overwhelmed. Everywhere she looked was something new and different. While that had been exciting at first, it now served as a stark reminder of her situation. 

She had been trying to mentally prepare herself for the past few days, but it wasn’t making much of a difference now. Five days wasn’t much time at all to prepare oneself for leaving an entire lifetime behind. While she knew that she had made the right decision, it was still difficult to reconcile the changes going on around her. Everything she knew about the world had been shattered and she was left trying to make sense of the pieces. Like a pond overflowing its edges in a rainstorm, she felt like she didn’t have the capacity to take more in and yet it kept coming. 

Overstimulated and out of her element, she simply shut down. It was her only defense. Part of her wished she could just curl up in her seat, close her eyes, and be blissfully unaware of the changes in her life. She would simply wake up somewhere new and would just have to accept it. But she silenced this little voice in her head and kept her eyes open. Open, even if not fully seeing. 

A soft hand on her shoulder jerked her out of her thoughts.

Fleur blinked and sat up, groaning as she straightened her stiff back. The pair had driven all day, stopping once at a small convenience store on the side of the highway to refuel and to get some snacks for lunch on the go. Fleur stayed in the car while Hermione tended to whatever she needed to do. In her daze, she barely registered Hermione flitting about, nor did she notice the car pulling back onto the highway. 

“We’re going to stop for dinner now, there’s a small restaurant and inn just up ahead that we usually stay at… it’s a good stopping point for the first day.” Hermione started to explain.

Latching on to the one word she understood, Fleur nodded and palmed her stomach, “Dinner. Food.”

As if on cue, her stomach rumbled, partially from her hunger but more due to her nerves. She wasn’t sure where dinner would be happening but she assumed other humans would be close by, judging by the other cars she had seen as they drove. She hadn’t been around other humans since the first day when Hermione took her into the village for her clothes. Even though she didn’t feel like eating, she knew she had to eat and keep up her strength. The dried meat strips that Hermione had given her for lunch had held her over but she knew it wasn’t enough.

The brunette continued explaining their plans but the rapid talking was all a blur Fleur’s mind. Seeking reassurance, her hand went to Hermione’s thigh, since she couldn’t take her mate’s hand while they were driving. 

“Yes. I’ll order food for us, just stay with me. And don’t touch anything.” Hermione concluded, giving her a small smile.

“Fleur no touch,” she clarified as a small building came into view on the side of the road. It was bigger than the shower room by their campsite but not by much. There was a larger building set behind, with lots of identical doors evenly spaced along the base. Fleur noticed there was a second row of doors set above the bottom row but no visible way to get to the up there.  _ How did humans get to the top doors? Would she have to climb? There were no vines or branches to use. Did the humans have a way of flying, too? _ She hadn’t seen evidence of humans having wings but at this point she wasn’t about to rule out any possibilities. 

Hermione slowed the car and pulled it to the side next to another car that was sitting there. Fleur liked the color of the other car, it was a dark blue that reminded her of the sky as day shifted to night. She waited until Hermione made the car sleep before she unbuckled herself and got out.

The first thing Fleur noticed was that the air smelled different. The scent of moss and leaf litter had been replaced by unfamiliar smells that she couldn’t distinguish or even hope to identify. But that didn’t stop her from trying. She stood with her head tilted and nose in the air, breathing deeply while her companion rummaged in their bags for something. 

The sun had dipped below the horizon but she could still see a slightly orange glow to the west. She looked up, checking the stars. She saw the familiar patterns, but their placement was wrong. She and Hermione must have traveled very far. 

The evening air felt damp, like the day after a rainstorm, and was also cooler than she was used to. She shivered involuntarily. A moment later, Hermione was handing over her hoodie, which she hastily tugged on.  _ Her mate was so thoughtful. _

“Are you ready, Fleur?” Hermione asked tentatively as her head emerged through the hole of her own hooded shirt. 

Fleur looked between Hermione, the car, and the new building, uneasily shifting her weight. After a few moments of internally debating with herself, the promise of food and unyielding trust in Hermione helped soothe her jitters. She reached for the brunette’s hand as she nodded, falling into step beside the shorter woman. 

“Fleur go with Hermione.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione was exhausted. They had packed camp and managed to drive over four hours with just a quick midday break. Her back and shoulders were aching terribly and she was looking forward to a warm meal and finally sleeping in a proper bed. She enjoyed camping, but after an extra week of basic meals and sleeping on the ground, she desperately wanted the comforts of civilization.

She was grateful that their first two days were relatively straightforward - just drive, drive, and drive more. Once they reached Calais on the northern border of France, it would get really interesting. She planned to have Fleur hide inside her giant duffle bag in the boot of her car and pray that border security didn’t feel like poking or prodding. She felt bad that this was the best she could come up with and that Fleur would have to be crammed in the dark as they crossed the Channel but she didn’t have many options. It wasn’t like she was skilled at smuggling humans across international waters. 

She breathed a sigh of relief when the familiar first day stop came into view. It was just as she remembered it from previous years - a small one-story house that had been converted into a restaurant. Vines crawled up the tan stucco walls, creeping into the shingles. The brick path was illuminated by globe lights and led to the blue door. Bright red poppies, all in full bloom, lined the pathway like a natural red carpet entrance. The larger hotel building had been built on the plot of land behind the cottage, mirroring the exterior design of the original building. 

She parked by the diner, her mind on a single track for food. She would deal with the room later. Giving Fleur’s hand a reassuring squeeze, she led the way up the brick path.

The diner had a warm, friendly, and casual atmosphere; a tinkling of a bell at the door announced their arrival. There were just a few other patrons occupying other tables. They looked like locals enjoying a beer after a day of working in the surrounding fields. Hermione led Fleur to a back corner, farthest from everyone else. There wasn’t much privacy in the open plan room, but she would take what she could get. 

True to her word, Fleur refrained from touching anything as she looked around with wide eyes, taking in the unfamiliar room. She appeared calm, but the strong grip crushing Hermione’s fingers was clear evidence of her discomfort. 

Hermione gestured to Fleur to sit in the chair opposite of her at the small table. She obsessively straightened the table settings while she waited for the blonde to settle. She chuckled to herself when she saw Fleur imitating her posture and actions, running her fingers along the checkered tablecloth, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle. 

A middle-aged woman came over to tend to them, depositing thin menus at the table before wandering off. Hermione recognized her, though she had more grey streaks in her dark locks than in previous years. 

She gave the menu a quick glance before summoning the woman back to place their order. She wanted to continue slowly introducing Fleur to new foods so as not to shock the woman’s digestive system. The restaurant was small and had a limited menu but she did her best to pick out foods she deemed suitable. A fruit and cheese platter to start, followed by a grilled trout and vegetable-beef stew to share seemed like a good bet. She already knew that Fleur liked fish but she wasn’t sure how she would take to beef. If nothing else, she could eat whatever Fleur didn’t like. 

Fleur was watching the interaction between her and the server with rapt attention. She had visibly shifted in her seat to distance herself from the stranger but otherwise stayed put. 

‘ _ The sooner she learns to be around people the better.’ _ Hermione thought to herself as Fleur straightened up once the other woman had gone. Without thinking, she reached across the table and took Fleur’s hand, rubbing her thumb across the soft skin. Fleur smiled and squeezed back. 

While she had been hesitant at first, Hermione had grown accustomed to Fleur’s touches and had started reciprocating the gestures. She knew that it was a dangerous line to walk - allowing herself to hope that the constant touching was a sign that Fleur might actually like her back. Logically she told herself not to get her hopes up or read anything into it, but matters of the heart were anything but logical. 

Even if the blonde didn’t return the sentiments, she reminded herself that she could be mature enough to set her own desires aside to help her friend. If nothing else, Fleur seemed to take comfort in the physical contact. And right now keeping Fleur calm was top priority. 

The server returned a few minutes later with plates, a pitcher of water and the cheeseboard. She dropped the items off and left them to their own devices. 

Fleur bobbed her head, looking at the new food warily, trying to see it from other angles while staying still in her chair. She had seen Fleur do this whenever the blonde was confronted with something new, so it happened rather frequently, but it never got old. Hermione barely held in her laugh, her lips pursed tight together and cheeks full of air threatening to escape. 

She wondered if Fleur would recognize any of the food but it was quickly apparent that, like practically everything else the blonde had encountered, everything on the platter was foreign to her. 

Eager to get proper food in her belly, Hermione quickly dished up two identical plates so she could explain what things were as they ate.

“So this is goat cheese, we can spread it on this bit of baguette.” She quickly demonstrated her technique, which Fleur imitated, before taking a large bite. She stifled a pleased moan as the tart cheese hit her tongue and stirred her taste buds to life. She loved the fresh cheese but from the scrunched you face Fleur was making, the blonde did not harbor the same sentiments.

“Okay, so goat cheese is a no go for you.” Hermione mused and added it to the running list of Fleur’s dislikes that she had been forming in her head. Fleur set her unfinished bit of bread down on her plate and watched Hermione for a cue of what to try next. 

“Perhaps some fruit next. Here… Try a grape.” She popped a purple sphere into her mouth and chewed the sweet fruit.

Fleur’s eyes widened the moment the fruit hit her tongue and she bounced happily in her seat as she chewed. As soon as she finished the first, she had another grape in her mouth, followed by another. In a matter of seconds she ate hers and the few extra that Hermione offered her.

“Jolly good, at least I know something else you like.” Hermione laughed and speared a slice of fig with her fork next.

Dinner continued in a similar fashion, slowly making their way through the rest of the appetizer before tucking into the main courses. As expected, the trout was a hit but Fleur liked the stew as well. In retrospect, this didn’t surprise Hermione, since it was mostly just meat and vegetables.

Hermione decided to skip dessert, noting that Fleur was looking like she was about to fall asleep at the table. She didn’t blame the girl one bit, it had been a taxing day for them both. She hurried to get their room settled while Fleur waited in the car, speaking in a mix of broken French and English to the innkeeper. 

After a few minutes, she had paid and left the office with keys in hand. It was always humbling being on the other side of a language barrier and she felt empathic to Fleur’s struggle trying to learn English. 

The blonde was waiting patiently in her seat, pale blue eyes tracking her every movement as she walked back from the front office. Luckily it only took one trip to take their bags to the room, as Hermione was feeling dead on her feet now. 

“Okay, so this is our room.” Hermione unlocked the door and shoved it open with her shoulder, moving for Fleur to enter first. She flicked on the lights and immediately groaned.

There was only one bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, I wasn't sure where I wanted to split it... so we'll pick up with their cross-country adventure next chapter. 
> 
> AN: I’m bad at geography. Please don’t google maps or drive times to cross France. Also if you look up ‘Fleur’s magical forest,’ it doesn’t exist… but if it did, it would be near the Pyrenees.


End file.
